Defiantly Devious
by stargazer84
Summary: When the new mysterious owner of an oddities shop challenges George to create products beyond the limits of imagination, George is thrust into a renewed sense of self and the beauty of new magic. Rated M for future chapters.
1. The Competition

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

Chapter 1: The Competition

Defiantly Devious.

The sign was simple. Black background with silver lettering. Nothing that would make a passing shopper give it a second glance. It was far from the ostentatious fuchsia and gold signs further up the street. But it was the exact reason that George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks, earning him some odd glances by passing patrons.

The shop seemed to appear out of nowhere. He traversed this road multiple times throughout the day and can't recall ever seeing any advertisements, not a sign of the new shop owners cleaning the store front, or whispers from the customers about the small shop. George blinked and glanced around, he couldn't be the only one seeing this. Just then a lady slowed her pace to view the wears in the shops front window, and glance at the impending sign before she entered the store.

George took a tentative step towards the front window. The display was as simple as the sign. A tiered stack of black and silver boxes with simple potion bottles balancing on the edges. A string of white Christmas lights used as simple lighting. The sign at the bottom, a simple chalkboard with white writing:

Confidence Booster

Take your competitors down a notch,

Goes down as smooth as scotch.

Bloody hell. It couldn't be another joke shop. It didn't look like one, it couldn't be one. No, it could be. There are unspoken rules. You don't open a similar shop within walking distance of another. That's why he and Fred opened their shop in Diagon Alley. They would never set up a shop in Hogsmeade while Zonko's was in business. You just don't do that! But this couldn't be a joke shop.

His eyes traveled to the writing on the lower left pane of the window. The listed store hours made him blink and rub his eyes and read it out loud.

"If the doors are open, step inside. If the doors are closed, bugger off."

He checked his watch, he still had half an hour before he had to relieve Verity for lunch. He would go in, but only to reassure that nagging voice in the back of his mind, that this indeed was NOT a new joke shop.

The first thing he noticed was the sheer lack of color. Everything in the store was black, silver or white. The shiny checkerboard floor was sprinkled with black elongated display tables. The walls were white with silver drapes framing the displays on the walls. It was serenely quiet despite the fact that there were quite a few customers in the store. It was the polar opposite of his store. It unnerved him greatly.

George walked over to the table closest to him. Small pyramids of the signature black and silver boxes ready for purchase, but a large silver platter that offered the shopper a sample of the product. Another small black chalkboard alongside the platter. 'Large Biscuits.' They seemed harmless enough, but any prankster knows to always expect the unexpected. He lifted one of the clearly packaged cookies, it was plain and oval in shape with a light drizzle of white icing. The black tag attached to the top of the bag, gave him what he needed to know.

'One will make you larger. Caution: best consumed outdoors, unless you really wanted vaulted ceilings or really hated that particular wall in the living room. Effects lasting up to one hour.'

"Hmm." He muttered as he placed the cookie back on the platter. This table in particular was placed on an angle to allow the neighboring table on the right to create a "V" and for good reason.

The table on the right had the antidote to the table on the left. 'A Little Thirst-Quencher.' The small wine bottle encased in black velvet was displayed in a similar box as the cookies. The tag hanging off the neck read simply: 'One will make you smaller. Best consumed after a helping of biscuits. Caution: Drinking this commodity could cause one to shrink to the size of a pea, avoid brooms and forks. Effects lasting up to one hour.'

George recalled a book Ginny once borrowed from Granger, some muggle story about a girl in an odd land. The only thing lacking on these treats was an 'eat me' or 'drink me' tag.

"Mr. Weasley?" a voice behind him asked.

It startled him so, up until this point the shop had been relatively quiet and the sudden voice caused him to fumble the bottle in his hand. As he quickly regained the grip on the small glass, he quickly placed it back on the table. He felt as though his mother just caught him sampling one of her desserts she spent all day making.

"Yes…what…I'm sorry…" he fumbled as he turned towards the sales clerk.

She was older than him. Mid-to- early thirties, if he had to guess. She wore a uniform that matched the store, a crisp white button down shirt, black pants, and a black apron with two silver D's sewn onto the front. She gave him a soft smile.

"You are Mr. Weasley, correct? From Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" she asked politely.

"Yes, I am." He answered warily, feeling as if he was admitting to being a Death Eater.

"We were told you would come." She answered eerily. "My name is Mary; I am one of the associates here. The proprietor of the shop welcomes you, and wants you to know that you may help yourself to any of our products. I am here at your disposal if you should need any assistance. The proprietor asked that I give you this…"

She reached into one of the pockets of her apron and extracted a small business card.

"Should you need to contact the owner for any reason." She handed him the small card. "Please feel free to look around."

Mary turned to help other shoppers pick out a special product, leaving George with more questions than he could voice. The stiff business card in his fingers was twirled from his pointer down to his pinky and back. He walked back over to the store front window. The Confidence Booster bottles gleaming in the sunlight as he approached. 'Take your competitors down a notch.' He read and re-read the chalkboard.

Suddenly, the card in his hand grew warm, very warm. It wasn't an overly impressive card. Black matted with two glossy embossed D's on the front, much like Mary's apron. He turned the card over to look for the owners name and contacts, but found it to be blank. He gave the card a small twist in the light, and that's when the small silver lettering appeared across the card.

'Your move, Red.'


	2. The Nerve

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

Chapter 2: The Nerve

"It doesn't stop being magic just because you know how it works" –Terry Pratchett

He couldn't concentrate. The rest of his working day was a complete wash. Had he not told Verity that she could leave early today, he would have retired for the day as soon as she got back from lunch. He could feel the weight of the black business card in his pocket as he cashed out the last of the remaining customers in the shop. He was unnerved, perturbed, anxious. His fingers itched to take the card back out. He recognized the protean charm that was placed on the small rectangle once the message appeared.

He had paused once the message sank in. Was this so called proprietor in the store? He had glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. The young man behind the register was counting change back to a customer. Mary was restacking boxes on a display. So George did the only thing he could think of, he put the card in his pocket, grabbed a Booster bottle and left the store.

Forgetting to nourish his stomach with lunch, George walked back towards the store with bottle in hand. Upon entry of the shop, he noticed that quite a few patrons were carrying black and silver bags as they walked around his store. Verity glanced up from the register and gave him a confused look, as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She was about to ask if he even ate when a customer came up to purchase a handful of trick wands.

George rotated the bottle in his hand as he made his way to his workshop. He placed the bottle on his workbench and sat upon his stool. He sat there for a few minutes, glaring at the clear liquid in the silver topped container. Fingers drumming on his crossed arms. 'Take your competitors down a notch,' it was a small slap in the face. A taunt to get him to play some game. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't give in to some snobby, hobnobbing, invisible shop owning greenhorn. It wouldn't be fair, what with his years of experience, and knowledge of charms. The game would end before it began. So with that, George brushed it off and headed back out front to let Verity go to lunch a few minutes early.

Now with the last few stragglers picking out the last of their purchases, the thought of the small bottle on his workbench kept beckoning him. He tried to think as if it was one of his own devices. How would one brew such a potion without it turning into Felix Felicis? A luck potion and a confidence potion would have to require some of the same ingredients. Yet the drinker wasn't looking for things to go their way exactly, just the nerve to act upon something they normally wouldn't do.

'A bottle of Firewhiskey could do the same thing.' George thought to himself with a small laugh.

With a wave to the last customer he escorted out the door, George took out his wand to place the protection charms upon his shop and dimmed the lights. He charmed the brooms to begin the tedious task of sweeping the floors and straightened displays and tables as he walked the two floors of the shops. Once things were to his liking he cashed the register out and brought today's sales back to his bench.

He rubbed his eyes as he counted and re-counted the money before him. The small devious bottle was gleaming in the corner of his eye. It was making it very difficult to concentrate on the books. After his third failed attempt, he finally grabbed the bottle and placed it in the pocket of his robes. Finally able to account for the day, George placed the book back on the shelf, locked the money away in the safe for a deposit to Gringotts in the morning, he made his way to the Burrow.

Sad really, a grown man with more money than he knew what to do with, living in his parent's home. After the war, George couldn't spend more than one night in his flat above the shop without turning to talk to his twin, only to remember, he was gone. He couldn't walk past Fred's room without feeling as if his heart would rip from his chest. It was a few weeks ago that he found he couldn't even unlock the door to the flat. It was that evening that he started spending every night in his old room at the burrow. While the pain was still present, sleeping in the room they had grown up in, George found that having Harry's snores filling the silence of the room at night somewhat relaxing. He wasn't alone.

No one really gave it much thought when the others started living in the Burrow. It seemed like the most logical thing for them to do. All of them too young, fresh from a war and sights no normal person could handle. What better and safer place to be than with a family that all shared those experiences and could help you ease back into a normal life.

Percy began to attend family dinners again, if only a few times within the week, as the reestablishment of the Ministry often kept him late. Bill and Fleur had settled back into Shell Cottage. Between curse breaking and traveling, the Weasley/Delacour household were busy chasing after a very vibrant toddler.

The first grandchild was a joyous distraction. Victoire proved to be just as charming as her mother, and as adventurous as her father. There were time when she would sneak away and get herself into a newly folded basket of laundry, only to throw every item out onto the floor, as if offended by their occupation of the basket. When caught, she would give the accuser a few blinks of her long blond eyelashes to prove her innocence to avoid a scolding. George liked her instantly.

Hermione had helped Ginny rearrange her room, so that the two girls could each have a space to call their own while sharing it. Harry had moved into the twin's room not long after the war. Ron's room had always been too cramped to accommodate the extra bed. At first, Harry was a bit hesitant about moving into Fred's space, but at the time Molly had assured him it would be perfectly fine. Not realizing then that it would be exactly what George needed to sleep at night.

Hermione had decided to go back to Hogwarts with Ginny for their last year. Not that anyone was surprised, but it earned Ron and Harry quite the lecture about their educational decisions when they had told Molly and Arthur that they would be joining Shacklebolt in the new Auror training class. While they assured her that they would learn more by the experience than the pages of books, Molly insisted that they stay at the Burrow during the duration of their training to ensure the quality of their instruction.

The year to come would prove challenging as everyone had different ways of coping. For George, it took him a good three weeks before he could open the shop again. It wasn't until Verity's howler of being dirt broke that he realized the decision of keeping the shop closed was having the opposite effect of what it was intended to do. So with a heavy heart George reopened the store. Ron had helped him throughout the summer, managing the store front, while George hesitantly threw himself back into product designs. It wasn't the same. It still wasn't. Fred wasn't there to bounce ideas off of, or test finished projects. But George learned quickly, adapt or die. He loved his twin, but he wasn't ready to join him just yet.

George apparated to the back door that led to the kitchen. He could hear him mother moving and shifted pots and pans of food from the stove or oven while directing Ginny and Hermione how many utensils they will need for the night. George opened the backdoor and instantly found himself fumbling for the second time of the day. The small bump between his chest and Hermione's right arm caused her to lose the balance of the glasses she was balancing. George instinctually grabbing Hermione's arm with his left hand to steady her while reaching his right one out to catch the descending glass proved fruitless. The shattering of the cup earned him a small sigh in the hole that was once his left ear.

"Sorry 'bout that." George said as he straightened.

"You really should be more careful George." Hermione lightly scolded as she stepped over the mess of glass.

"I'll get it." George said as he took out his wand.

But with a wave of her free hand, Hermione told him not to worry, and before he could argue the reassembled cup was in her hand. Wandless and silent. She really was the brightest witch of her age. The silent summoning was never that hard for George, but to be without his wand was like losing his ear all over again.

"Dinner is just about ready, George dear. Why don't you fetch the others, you look a bit pale, some food will put some color back in your face." His mother noted as she placed a large bowl of potatoes on the table.

Within a few minutes the table was bustling with activity. Bowls being passed, arms reaching for rolls, elbows bumping while meat was being cut. The conversations waivered from chores, to qudditich, to work. It was when his usually quiet father called attention to Hermione that George's focus on one conversation was brought forth.

"…joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is that true?" asked Arthur.

Hermione nodded as she swallowed the steam vegetables she had just placed in her mouth.

"I am. Shacklebolt was impressed by my 'powers of persuasion,' as he put it, during my time in Regulation and Control that he thought I could be put to good use by eradicating some old laws and writing new ones." She explained. "It'll require more hours and research, but it should be the challenge I was looking for."

'Only Hermione could make writing laws sound like watching a quidditch match.' George thought.

"Speaking of challenges," George started as he fished into his pocket to pull out the black business card. "You lot heard of this new shop on Diagon Alley? Defiantly Devious?" He tossed the card onto the table for them to look over.

Harry picked it up and gave it a once over, he frowned as he ran a finger over the double D's on the card.

"Can't say I have. I went last week to pick up some new gloves for work; I didn't notice any new stores. Where is it?" He asked as he passed the card to Ginny.

"In Gambol and Japes' old shop. Just noticed it today on my way to lunch." George explained as he watched his sister inspect the card.

"What do they sell?" she asked, reaching across the table to hand it to Ron.

"Well, they're sort of an oddities shop. Not really a joke shop of sorts, but…" he trailed as he got up to retrieve his cloak from the peg on the wall. He reached in and pulled out the small clear bottle. "…the owner offered me to look over their products."

He placed the bottle in the same spot he had thrown the card. Hermione reached to read the tag on the neck.

"'Confidence Booster: drinker will experience a boost in self esteem to conquer all fears and harrowing endeavors. Side effects included extreme arrogance, slight astonishment, or overall embarrassment. Drink with caution.' Sounds lovely." She said sarcastically.

"I know a certain brother that could have used this during his first quidditch season." Ginny replied, earning her a glare from Ron and a laugh from Harry.

"Who's Red?" Ron asked when he turned his attention back o the card.

"Huh?" George asked as he glanced at his brother.

"The card. It says, 'your move, Red.' Who's Red?" he asked again.

"Oh. Apparently this new shop owner has an acquired sense of humor." George said as he took the card back. "He knew I would come into the shop, apparently he wants me challenge him in coming up with the best product in the alley. Ridiculous really. In all honesty, I'm quite pissed. The nerve opening another oddities shop within sight distance of another. One of the reasons Fred and I chose Diagon Alley was because we didn't want to interfere with Zonko's. It's an unspoken rule, but one that should be honored! "

George huffed as he put the card back into his pocket.

"So you've met this new owner? Anyone we know?" Harry asked as he scraped his put and brought it to the sink to begin its wash.

George paused, "That's the other weird thing; he wasn't there. One of his workers gave it to me. In fact, she never told his name. Kept calling him 'the proprietor.'"

Harry turned with a frown on his face as he leaned on the counter.

"In my experience, when a weird yet mysterious figure enters your life, it usually ends bad. Watch yourself George."


	3. It Begins

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, I just landed my dream job and this past week has been a whirlwind of activity!

Chapter 3: It Begins

"And suddenly you know…It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings." – Unknown

The bottle sat on the shelf next to his accounting books for the better part of two weeks. Every now and then he was tempted to uncork the damn thing and perform a reversal process on it. But every time he went to reach for it, the annoying voice in the back of his mind stopped him. He would hope that anyone who ever bought one of his products would just leave the mystery of its magic alone. So, the bottle remained on the shelf, glimmering in annoyance.

George had been working alongside the Ministry for awhile now. With the success of their wearable shield charms, the ministry wanted to give their Aurors a new way of evading harm, should a situation be called for. George had been looking into improving the Peruvian Darkness Powder for a while now. And it wasn't until he had asked Hermione what muggles look for in a magician's act that he came up with a new idea.

"Well, there was this one time I went to a muggle circus with my parents, and the magician on the stage took a ring off his finger and threw it on the ground. A great puff of white smoke appeared and the magician was gone. At the time I thought he really disappeared, but they just have a trap door under them. The smoke provides a screen in which enables him to escape." She had explained.

Muggles were ingenious, whether they intended it or not. But their simplistic ways of 'performing magic' was quite the laugh amongst wizarding children.

And so he now found himself sitting at his bench charming and infusing the darkness powder into simple pieces of jewelry that could be worn by anyone. A simple white gold band for an undercover Auror, or a gold locket for that special someone in your life, to the more expensive, more loaded charm bracelet. The user simply had to throw the piece on the ground and the room they occupied would fill with darkness to allow them ample to disappear or at least hide.

Now he just needed a good way to display them. All new products went in one of the four front windows of his shop. But displaying jewelry was completely foreign to him. So during lunch he took a stroll towards Juniper's Junk Shop. The old hag always had costume pieces on display, so he went traversing through the shop to look for inspiration. In one of the back corners, on a lopsided dining table were sorted amounts of broken pins, tarnished rings, lockets without chains and chains without lockets. The rings sat in a moldy red display case, the charms and lockets sans chains were thrown into chipped tea cups and the chains and necklaces that were intact were hanging off a broken coat hanger.

'Well this is just unacceptable.' He thought as he glanced over the dusty pieces.

Leaving no more enlightened then when he entered, he passed the Defiantly Devious on his way back to the shop. Nothing had changed in the store front. The same display of the Boosters were in the window, still as insulting as the first day it appeared. George huffed and continued down the alley. It wasn't until a high pitched screech from an owl entering the Emporium that George was struck with an idea. A large barn owl was perched on a thick branch in the front window. Disgustingly enough, the owl feces hanging off the branch started the wave of ideas. He stopped at the tea shop to grab a quick cuppa and a biscuit before returning to the store.

Back at the shop, George had transfigured a dead trick wand into a small looking dead tree, fuchsia to match the décor to stand on its own in the window. It was surrounded by delicate plain teacups. George set to carefully hang the necklaces off the branches of the tree, the silver and gold mixing well with the bright purple tree. He balanced the bracelets over the edges of the teacups, giving it a look of a cup too full, and charms that spilled on to the saucer. The rings were used as confetti all around the tree and cups.

Never Attend Another Tea Party Without Your Peruvian Jewels

Each Piece Carefully Infused With Darkness Power

He stood back admiring his work, when he glanced at a few passing shoppers walking by. The window he had chosen looked down the alley straight towards Defiantly Devious. He put his hand into his pocket to take out his wallet. In one of the back pockets is where kept the black business card. He gave it a quick once over before he twirled it between his fingers.

'Pawn to D3. Your move." He thought then placed the card back in his wallet.

The proprietor smirked as they read the words that filled the back of their card. So it begins…


	4. The Nevers

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

Chapter 4: The Nevers

"We are mosaics—pieces of light, love, history, stars—glued together with magic and music and words." – Anita Krizzan

The Peruvian Jewelry proved to be a success. So much so, that George could keep the piece on the shelf. He had to hire a new associate just to handle the new display counter and orders. Alex proved himself to be very well organized and spoke intelligently with the customers when prodded with various questions about the pieces. The jewelry were ordered through Alex then passed off to George who was trying to keep up with the demand.

Just when he had thought he had caught up and beyond the current orders, Harry and Hermione paid him a visit one afternoon. Harry claimed that it was a Ministry call as he handed George an order form for gold and white gold bands for their Aurors, but he really wanted to get Hermione out of her office for a spot of lunch. It was one of the largest and most profitable orders he ever received. George gave an astonished chuckle; it was going to be a long weekend.

"Where are these ever impressive pieces I keep hearing about?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, the display case is in the back with Alex." George pointed over his shoulder as he re-read the order form. "And the window display is up front. Why don't you two have a look while I write up the invoice?"

George made his way to the back room as Hermione and Harry decided to look at the window display, as Alex seemed to have his hands full with would be purchasers. Harry regarded the pieces with mild interest. The ones on display were meant to attract the female cliental, while he was in favor of using these for work, he had no interest of wearing any of them in his personal life. Hermione's attention was drawn to a beautiful oval silver locket with an aster carved into it. She opened it carefully, afraid that the darkness powder would be held within. Instead she was presented with the standard smooth interior with the space to hold two small photographs. She brought the necklace closer to her face, inspecting the edges to see if she could find a trace of the powder.

"I really should be giving you a cut of the sales, Granger." George proclaimed as he handed Harry an envelope.

"What do you mean?" She asked as she closed the clasp on the locket.

"I got the idea from you, when you told me about the magician you once saw." He explained.

"Oh! Oh no, I couldn't accept anything, really, its fine." She said as she waved off the notion of a small fortune.

"Well, then at least take the locket." George offered as he pointed at the necklace in her hand.

"If it's all the same, I've had my fill of lockets in this lifetime." Hermione stated as she hooked the locket back on the tree.

Harry gave a small chuckle as he tucked the envelope in his robe. George reached over and grabbed a small intricate ring. He grabbed her right hand and placed the silver ring on her pinky.

"A ring then perhaps." He insisted.

"George really, its fine I-" she started.

"Ladies and Gentleman!" George cut her off to address the store, "I have a wonderful surprise for you this afternoon. The ever charming Hermione Granger, yes folks, _the_ Hermione Granger has offered to demonstrate the awesome power that our new Peruvian Jewelry Line has to offer. I will warn you, it's going to get a little dark." He gestured and then pointed at a group of untrustworthy boys to his left, "Don't even think about boys. We have an Auror on standby," glancing over to Harry." Hermione , if you please…" He gestured to the floor in front of her.

Hermione stood mouth agape, and slightly stuttering. All eyes in the shop were suddenly on her. Finally knowing what it was like to be Harry when all eyes were constantly on him. She looked to George, who nodded in encouragement. Sighing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the small ring from her finger and threw it to the ground.

Black. No other color, no light, just blackness filled the space. Then it started to dissipate. The light of the store and sun cause small silver sparkles to appear through the darkness, until it all but disappeared. The patrons of the store gave a roaring round of applause.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. All inquires about this line can be made at the back of the shop, where Alex will be glad to help you!" George yelled pointing to the back counter where the overwhelmed young man stood trying to file orders.

"That was uncalled for." Hermione mildly scolded.

"Quite the contrary, if you won't accept my gifts, then the least you could do is advertise them. Right now, I can guarantee that those young girls are asking for the exact ring you just wore. Perhaps I shall name that piece after you, as my way of thanks." George proclaimed as he stared to make his way towards Alex to tell him just that.

"He's ridiculous." Hermione announced to Harry.

Harry gave her a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders, as he began to guide her out of the shop.

"Come on, I want to see this new shop that had his knickers in a twist a few weeks back, before we eat." Harry said as he steered them down the alley.

Hermione had to admit, that while she enjoyed the novelty of the twins joke shop, this new store was more to her taste. There were small pieces in the store that reminded her of stories she read when she was younger. She always had a connection to Alice In Wonderland. Often there were time in the wizarding world that she had seen things that would have made any muggle want to check themselves into a sanatorium. Had she not know the magic behind it all, she would have assumed the world was indeed mad.

There was a beautiful display of fire and ice in the front window. Two items you would never think could be paired together as a collection. There seemed to be a theme about using fake trees to display their wares amongst the shop owners. While George's tree was outrageously flamboyant, this one was whimsical, larger than the one in George's shop. It was pitch black and bare. As if you were walking through the forest at midnight in the middle of winter. From its branches hung small black and silver lanterns that burned a bright hot white fire. At the base of the tree was ice. In fact they were ice cubes, arranged to look as though the ground was covered after a new frost. The black chalkboard sign to the right announce the new arrival of the product:

Never Dark and Never Melt

Never Attend Another Tea Party Without A Light or Let Your Drink Go Warm

Jewels Are Passé.

"Well, for once we can say that George wasn't kidding about the sarcastic bastard." Harry said after he read the sign.

"'Ice that never melts, can be used and reused to keep your drink cool and refreshing. Guaranteed or your sickles back.'" Hermione read the tag off a bag in one of the bins by the window. "Apparently, wizards have never heard of an ice pack." She said offhandedly.

"When have you ever put an ice pack in your drink?" Harry asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Hermione glared at him as she walked over to the wall that the unlit lanterns hung off in neat rows. The chalkboard hanging next to the lanterns explained that once the wick within was lit, the flame would never go out, providing the user the opportunity for late night reading or traversing through dark mysterious caves.

"Black or silver?" Harry asked her.

"I'm sorry?" she asked giving him an odd look.

"Black or silver?" he asked again pointing at the wall, "I want to know which one to get you for Christmas."

It was well past midnight, and George was still in the shop fulfilling orders. Ginny had come by a few hours ago to deliver food his mother had packaged for him.

'Let no stone unturned and let no stomach go hungry.'

His mother always used to say that. Of course the stones she meant were the lost socks hiding under their beds, but she meant well.

After engorging himself on roasted chicken and sweet potatoes, George had finally remembered the correct charm to replicate items in a timely fashion. While the replication was fairly easy, infusing the powder into each piece would be painstakingly slow. He had taught Alex how to do some of the smaller pieces so that he could take a break, George still had a mountain of orders to fill. He had made the right move naming a ring after Granger. All the young girls that flocked to the shop insisted that the must simply have the ring.

While working to infuse his new popular ring, a tapping came from his office window. A black and white eagle owl sat with a package under his feet. George got up to let the owl in, but the instant he untied the package, the owl flew off.

The package was small, wrapped in the post signature brown paper. There was no return address, just his name beautifully scripted in loops and curves on the paper. George untied the black string and ripped off the paper. He gave a small groan when he saw the black and silver box. He should have known. Regarding Harry's warning about this mysterious shop owner, George checked the box for any curses or destructive charms. Nothing not even a sealing charm to keep the box closed. Accepting that the box was indeed harmless, George flipped it open. A small black lantern laid gently in silver tissue. There were two cards attached, one with the instructions on how to use the products, the other a personal touch.

'On the eve of your successful trinkets, I find it wasteful to burn the midnight oil.'

George flicked the card to the side and gently lifted the lantern out of its packaging. He opened the latch on the side of one of the panes. He took his wand and gave it a small flick for the incendio charm to produce a flame. Bringing the flame to the wick and quick burst of white light spread through the room. One could say that it could defeat his darkness powder, if only for a second. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he noticed that the workshop was filled with more sufficient light than before.

He stared at the little light much as he had the bottle of the Confidence Booster. It was then he noticed a slight warming on his thigh. George stood to retrieve his wallet from his pocket. Flipping it over, he slide the business card out of its preferred home.

'Never been one for chess, myself. But the quaffle is in your possession, Red.'


	5. Concept and Design

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Happy August everyone! I don't know how often other writers check their traffic stats, but I do quite often and love how this story and Pirate Princess are bringing in the most traffic. If you haven't read Pirate Princess, it's a F/HR 2 chappy, quick and fun. Anyways enjoy the weekend!

Chapter 5: Concept and Design

"I prefer the company of happy people who are believers in magic…and of magical people who are believers in happy."- Unknown

George sat on the counter in the kitchen. It had been a week since he received the lantern, and never once did the flame waver. George tried blowing out, submerging it in water, and even dropped a Granger Ring in it. While the powder did prevail, he noticed that the flame was the first thing to come into view not long after the powder took over.

He paid his competitor's shop a visit the next day. Mary greeted him as he entered. Asking if he received his gift. George confirmed in a huff. Mary escorted him over to the new products to explain it in further detail. He was offered a free bag of ice, reminding him that he was more than welcome to any of the shops commodities. George stood there with two now frozen hands as he stared at the display that rivaled his own.

"Bloody git," he mumbled under his breath as he watched Mary and the other boy returned to hanging small white Christmas light along the perimeter of the store and wrapping them around the various columns.

He had left the shop without a word, and was now glaring at the two items in front of him. He was hoping that the proximity to the flame would surely over power the frozen water cube sitting on the table.

"Keep glaring at it any harder mate, and you just might melt it." Ron mumbled over one of his manuals.

The glare was redirected in an instant.

"I just don't get it. Why give me the stuff for free? I'd be damned if I gave all my secrets away to a competitor." George said as he rested his chin on his hand.

"So you've figured out the charms?" a voice came from the entryway of the kitchen.

George looked up as he saw Hermione make her way across the kitchen to the kettle. She lifted it off the stove and made her way to the sink. Before she began to fill it she tipped it towards George and Ron to silently ask if they wanted a cup. Both waved her off.

"To answer your first question Granger, no I haven't. But the thought has crossed my mind." George explained as he watched her fill the kettle and light the pilot on the stove with a flick of her wrist.

"So then why don't you?" she asked as she brought the teapot over to boil.

George sighed. "If you didn't notice Granger, I've been busy as of late, especially now that I have to make hundreds of duplicates of your rings for the past week."

"Ring? What ring?" Ron asked as he glanced from his brother to his best friend.

"Oh Ronald, it's just one of George's new products." Hermione assured as she scoured the cabinets for the right tea leaves. "He made me try one out last week in his shop, so naturally everyone wants a piece of something that one of the members of the 'Golden Trio' wore." She laughed as she tried to reach the leaves on the top shelf.

George looked to Ron, who had turned back to his place in his manual. Shaking his head, he jumped off the counter to help Hermione reach the small box. He didn't ask for details, he knew something happened during the battle, because the following days after, the two couldn't be separated. But then things went back to normal, he annoyed her, she bickered. It was just the way they were. He couldn't say exactly when things fell apart, but if he had to pinpoint it, he would say as soon as Hermione was on the train back to school, they decided to go their own way in the romance department. He had seen Ron go out a few times with a girl he trained with, and Hermione seemed ok about it. At least she didn't act the way she did when Ron was seeing the Lavender girl. He didn't question it.

"For a witch who can access magic from her fingertips, one would think you could get that." He teased as he reached over her.

"I'm stubborn about being short, thank you," she added as he handed her the box, "and besides, not everything has to be done using magic."

George let out a small laugh through his nose as he shook his head at her and walked back to the table. He leaned over the two offending objects with an arm on either side of them, hoping an answer would come to him from a different vantage point.

'Fire and ice….hot and cold…always burns and always cools…'he thought as he heard the kettle start to whistle.

"I wonder…" he thought out loud.

"Oh this should be good." Ron said as he watched his brother.

Hermione continued to make her tea, as she added the milk, George turned to her.

"Granger, your quite skilled with charms, are you not?" he asked as she stirred her tea.

"I'm above average, I'm more adapt at Arithmancy above all other subjects, why?" she answered.

"If I were to, hypothetically, place this piece of ice into this flame, what do you think would happen?" he posed as he left the ice slide around his palm.

"Nothing." Ron chimed in. "That can't melt, and that can't go out." He said as he pointed at the objects at hand.

"Not necessarily Ron. Both items are charmed to do something. The ice gives off energy in order to cool something down, and the fire give off light as its energy source, so to combine the two, the energy has to go somewhere, it just depends on which item is more dominated." She theorized as she walked closer to the table. She glanced at George, "In this case, I think you're more likely to damage your mother's kitchen than just the products."

She took a sip of her tea and decided a little sugar couldn't hurt and turned back to the counter.

"In all the years I've known her, she hardly ever been wrong." Ron whispered, "Is it really worth having mum's favorite part of the house blown to bits. What's that saying? Don't bite the hand that feeds you?"

"You're right. You're both right." George acknowledged as Hermione walked back over to the table, sugary tea in hand. "It's a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea…Let's do it anyways and see what happens!" He proclaimed as he dropped the ice cube into the lantern before the two other occupants of the room could protest.

There was a burst of blinding white light throughout the entire first floor of the burrow. The sound of a crashing tea cup and the glass rattling in their window panes. The three residents were pushed by a cool wind that forced them back a few steps as they shielded their eyes. And then it was gone.

George had backed himself up against the counter he previously sat upon earlier using his elbow to block the light. Ron had his chair pushed back and used his book to block his face from any shrapnel that might have gone flying. Hermione's hair had been blown out of place and the bottom of her pants were now saturated in tea.

"That's the second time you've made me break a cup." She glared at George as she extracted her wand, too tired to do it by hand or wandless. The shards of glass were repaired, the tea vanished and her pant bottoms cleaned as Ron and George assessed the damage.

The kitchen itself was fine. A few rattled dishes and a few knickknacks out of place. But overall not a big gaping hole in the side of the house as Hermione had predicted. Instead there was a large ice sculpture in the place where the lantern once stood. It looked like an over sized icicle. The deadly looking kind that hang off the sides of the burrow by Ron's bedroom window. Except this icicle burned the white hot light the small flame once gave off.

The three of them stood around and inspected the sculpture for a few before either of them spoke. Hermione, suddenly gathering up the courage to do what neither of the boys could, she reached out a hand to touch the ice. But before she could fully connect with it, George grabbed her wrist. Afraid of what it could do. Hermione was about to protest when she felt it.

"It's giving off heat." She spread her captured fingers as if to collect the warmth provided by the ice.

George let go of her hand to mimic her movements.

"Well, I'll be damned." He said in astonishment. "Heated ice."

Ron and Hermione looked to each other as George started to move toward the oven. He grabbed his mother's oven pink frilly oven mitts. He always hated these retched things, they reminded him of the robes Umbridge used to wear, but he would deal with them for now. He walked back over to the table to pick up the ice. As he did the two others in the room could see the wheels turning in his head. They could barely make out the words "Christmas" and "Heat source" as he went out the back door and apparated away.

"Mum's gonna be pissed when she sees the burn mark on the table." Ron said as he pointed at the round black mark on the wood surface.


	6. Something Wicked

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Sorry for the wait, went on vacation with the family this past week. If you ever get the chance to go to Great Wolf Lodge, they're so much fun! Anyways, I usually try to write a bunch of chapters ahead in case I fall behind, but as of right now, I'm almost done with chapter 7, it's my goal this week to write, write, write! Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Something Wicked

"By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes"- William Shakespeare

Summer seemed to have been whisked away overnight. The cool breezes that made one reach for an extra sweater, ponder whether or not they would need their umbrellas or don a scarf. Leaves slowly started to fade into colors of the once summer sun sets, and getting up in the morning was a little harder and far darker than one was accustomed to.

George was a rarity around the burrow as of late. Often times he would be the last one in at night and the first one in at the morning. The only other soul that could claim that he did, in fact, still exist was Hermione. She had been up many a night researching ancient pureblood laws that were still in existence. It was her new role in the department to determine whether the laws could be rewritten to match current expectations or to abolish them completely. It was a touchy subject, many families still believed in the power of arranged marriages to keep family heirlooms and blood lines pure. Arthur and Molly had been very informative about the insights and understanding what it's like from a pureblood standpoint, even though Molly had balked at half the laws Hermione had asked her about.

"That's still enforced?! I honestly can't say that any family still does that!" she said as she pulled a tray of cookies from the oven. After she placed the tray on the stovetop she shook out the small towel she used to guard her hand from the heat and turned back to the young girl at the table. "You haven't happened to see my oven mitts, have you Hermione dear?" she asked with her hands on her hips.

"Can't say that I have." She replied with a small shrug of her shoulders.

It was on one of those nights that Hermione's research was running later than she would have liked but she was so close to picking this particular apart, when George dragged himself in. He was in the process of slipping his tie off his neck when the voice of the living room floor made him jump.

"You need to return your mother's oven mitts."

George turned with wand in hand; ready to curse the dickens out of the intruder. He relaxed when he noticed Hermione with her nose in a rather thick volume of yellowed pages. Taking a deep breath and tucking his wand back into his pocket, he made his way around to the other side of the couch. With a thump, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Never knew you to wear glasses, Granger." He mumbled through his yawn.

"I've been getting headaches lately, and was told that my eyes are getting tired and that I'm straining. So I have to wear these now when I read." Hermione sighed as she glared at the optical in her hand before replacing them.

She went back to reading the large tome as George watched her write a few notes every now and then. The fact that it was two thirty in the morning and she was too stubborn to give up for the night got him thinking. There should be a quill to help with notes, scratch that, a reliable quill that actually wrote what you thought or asked of it, not that quick quotes crap that's been around for decades. It would be a fairly decent market. Draw in the upscale business folks who might be likely to impulse buy while there in the store. Always nice to sell a boring yet useful item every now and then.

George flopped onto the floor and sat to the right side of the table. He reached over and grabbed a piece of scratch parchment and extra quill that was by Hermione. He began to sketch a similar looking quill to the one in his hands, and draw up the sets of charms that would need to be in place. Hermione silently watched him as he furious scratched across the paper. After he was done, he leaned back into the couch to reanalyze his late night brainstorm. There was something about it…it wasn't perfect…it wasn't Weasley enough. He frowned at the paper, and then looked over at Hermione, who had resumed scribbling across her paper. He was about to call it a night when she threw the paper at him.

He glanced down at the sheet. It wasn't a quill. In fact it looked like a small spear. It was thick for the most part until you got to the bottom where a sharp triangular point protruded. She used the same spells he wrote on the paper, but adjusted them for the new weight.

"It's a fountain pen. We use them in the muggle world. Actually only a few people due, they're consider a fancy piece of writing equipment. Most muggles just use a cheap plastic version. The ink is stored in here," she pointed to the drawing as she explained, "now; when the writer applys pressure to the tip, it causes the ink to flow. You could always make it a self replenishing ink well or sell ink cartridges separately for more profit. Either way I'm sure it would fit nicely in with your muggle novelties."

To this day, he didn't know why he did it. Maybe he was sleep deprived, maybe he was overworked, maybe it was the fact that a young pretty girl sitting by the fire just understood what he was trying to accomplish without having to ask. It was like having Fred again, even if just for a moment. But he had looked over the drawing again, realizing its brilliance and kissed her. Square on the mouth, just for a second or two. She seemed completely taken off guard.

"You're brilliant. You hear it all the time, I know, but you really are." He said as he looked at the paper again.

The two stayed up for another hour or so going over the mechanics of the pen, and the possibility of making a cheaper line as well. The age of quills could very quickly come to an end in George's opinion. Hermione loved the fact that George was the type to shy away from muggle technologies; in fact, he had a bit of his father in them when it came to the topic.

Hermione had asked about his recent discovery of the heated ice, but George would give nothing up on the matter, stating it was still in the stages of testing. If fact, George had made a large order of the DD's lanterns and ice, under a pseudonym of course, to further study the effects of the amount of ice to flame ratio. So far, he had yet to blow up his shop, which made it a good day.

Instead, George had mentioned that he was coming out with some new stuff just in time for the Halloween season. It was something Fred had been working on, and since it was the twins favorite holiday, after April fools that is, he felt it worthy to produce.

"Quite ridiculous, really," George said as he flipped through one of the notepads he summoned from his room. "Fred was always of the opinion that he was the better looking twin, but we all know who that title really belonged to."

Hermione chuckled as he wagged his eyebrows at her. It was hard at first, for him to open the notepad when he retrieved it. As if it was bringing up painful, happy memories. He had to take a few deep breaths before he managed. She glanced at the sketches in the pad and saw just how involved these two were with all their ideas. There was barely any room left on the page to write another note. Runes, charms, potion ingredients, all listed in various spaces of the page. This page in particular was a drawing of a bottle, much like the shampoo bottle in the bathroom. One would simply switch out the bottles, and when the user began to shampoo they would become pleasantly surprised by the fact that they had bright red hair. There was also a sister product that could be used as face wash to produce freckles to go along with the new hairstyle. Fred had drawn the distinctive Weasley Wizards logo to show how the consumer would look.

"I'll have to be sure to inspect my shampoo bottles from now on." Hermione shook her head as she started to pile up her notes.

"Don't forget your wash." George added as he flipped through more pages.

Hermione waved him off.

"I already have freckles and I quite like them, so a few more wouldn't bother me."

"Let me see." George said as he grabbed her chin to face them. "Well I'll be damned, can't say I ever noticed them."

"You haven't noticed a lot of things about me." Hermione whispered as she looked him in the eye.

So for the second time that night, George kissed her. This time he captured her top lip between his for a longer gestation. Her lips were chapped. He had seen her bite them often when she was deeply concentrating or nervous about something. They tasted slightly sweet, as if she had had a glass of pumpkin juice with dinner. The hand that was holding her chin had found its way to her cheek to bring her closer. They separated to adjust for the deepness of the kiss, tongues quickly brushing up against each other. When they released, George's head was in a fog. Her voice brought him out.

"I was talking about my glasses, but this is ok." She smiled at him and leaned over to give him a quick peck. "You should get bed; you have to open the store in a few hours, don't you?"

George nodded still surprised by the turn of events. He had so many questions, but as sleep was quickly overtaking his brain functions, he figured they could wait. He watched Hermione place all her notes and books into her bag. He grabbed her hand as she steeped over him to walk towards the stairs. He held it until she stopped walking and the knuckles in the middle of her fingers a kiss.

"Good night Hermione." He whispered.

"Good night George." She replied as she ran her fingers through his hair.

George wasn't sure how he ever made it to bed, as he did not recall the trip there, but he knew he didn't need the gentle gruff of Harry's snores to lull him into slumber.


	7. The Labyrinth

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: So it might be a while before I can get the next chapter up, as work is starting Monday! I will try to not make it too long of a wait, so for now enjoy!

Chapter 7: The Labyrinth

"We can choose to be lost in the labyrinth of our emotions or use these trails to harness our inner strength, but one thing remains constant in our lives—we have the sun in our hands."- Dodinsky

George was unnerved. It had been over a month since he had last heard from this mysterious proprietor. Between the contract with the ministry for his darkness jewelry, and the newly minted Multi-Tasking Fountain Pen that were a hit with office personnel, business was booming. Yet, no word from the card in his pocket, a lightly decorated window front in the store. George just didn't get it. What did this guy want?

George had gone out to lunch that day and decided to sit on the bench across from Defiantly Devious. It had once been his and Fred's favorite store. Gambol and Japes Jokes and Jolly's was one of the main inspirations for open their own store. They had done their research comparing the top product from both Gambol and Japes and Zonko's store, which was when they knew they had to stretch things a bit further, or else run the risk of being another novelty store. It was Fred that had come down with a pretty bad fever in school that got him excused from class. In his time in the hospital wing, was when the two started to devise potions that could feign sickness, but knowing that drinking a potion in class would more than likely earn you a week's detention with Snape, George was the one that came up with the idea to mix the potions with sweets.

When that retched woman decided to run Hogwarts in their seventh year, they knew that they had to come up with more items to help their fellow students keep their spirits up. They needed to remember to laugh and enjoy their time at school, no matter how horrible that toad tried to bring them down. They knew that their ideas were doing well when one of Umbridge's decrees officially banned their products. It only made them work harder to prove that it was time for that woman to get what was coming to her. And boy, did they love a challenge.

A challenge…it had been a challenge to even get out of bed in the morning right after the battle. Knowing that his other half wouldn't be rolling out of bed around the same time, fighting with him about the amount of water he used in the shower, switching breakfast plates when mum would give him Fred's waffles and he would get his oatmeal. Yes, they still went home for at least one decent meal. Now he was home for all of them. He knew eventually he would have to go upstairs and face the fact that he would have to live alone in the flat. Merlin knows how much dust had accumulated over the last few months. But that was for another day. Right now he needed to go home and shower.

Locking the shop and apparating home took a little longer than usual, he seemed more tired today than he had in a long time. He slumped his way through the front door of the burrow and made his lead legs carry him up the stairs. The shower helped, especially now that there was hot water later in the day. He felt the stress of the day melt off his shoulders and down the drain. He changed in his room, as he could smell the finishing touches his mother was putting on the food.

With his hair still slightly wet he made his way down to the kitchen to find it completely empty. He could hear voices coming through the screen of the backdoor. It was a particularly arm night out for fall, it seemed as though summer wanted to hang on a bit longer. He saw his parents setting the picnic tables and shaking their heads with a smile at something in the back yard.

George stepped out and was greeted by Harry who was standing in the middle of the yard. George stood beside him and blinked.

"What…the hell…is that?" He asked the dark haired boy.

"A hedge maze." He answered. "Ginny bought it at that shop."

That shop. He didn't even have to specify, George was already glaring at one side of the enormous hedge that took up most of his mum's yard. He could hear a few other voices coming the maze, but could not see anyone.

"Who's in there?" George asked.

"Ginny, Hermione and Ron. I think Ginny's the furthest along, and Ron's been swearing most of the time, so I figure he's lost." Harry explained.

"Did you finish first?" George asked.

Harry shook his head. "Never went in. The last time I was in one of those I got transported and watched a dark wizard come back to life. I'm fine just watching."

George nodded and went to get closer to the maze. From what he could tell the hedge seemed to erupt from the ground and each section of the wall was interconnected with the next. It was covered with beautiful ivy leaves that made it incredibly thick and hard to see through to the other side. Before he realized he was walking into the maze inspecting the walls and ivy arches. At one point he thought he heard Ron on the other side of the wall to his right, so he decided to see if he could catch up with his younger brother to help him out. He took a sharp turn to the right and practically collided with a shorter brunette.

"We really need to stop meeting like this, Granger." He said as he reached out to keep her from falling backwards.

She took a deep breath and brushed the hair out of her face as she righted herself. She looked very muggle today. Over the last few years he had grown so use to her wearing her school robes, and even after she left Hogwarts and began her career she seemed to tailor her ways of dressing towards robes. But today she was standing before him in a plain white t-shirt, blue jeans, a pair of flat white sneakers, all topped off with a white and light blue striped scarf around her neck.

"When did you get here?" she asked.

"Just a little while ago, then I found this monstrosity in mum's garden, so I figured I would check it out." He explained.

"Oh, well it's quite a challenge actually. It seems that when the person that is furthest along gets to a checkpoint the maze changes, making it harder for the rest of us to find our way out, but easier for the person in the lead." Hermione explained.

"Interesting. Ginny's in the lead then?" George asked.

"For now." She answered with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as though challenging him.

George laughed as he took a step towards her and leaned to put his mouth by her ear.

"Lead the way then, Granger." He whispered.

"Try to keep up." She whispered back as she took off down the pathway.

Although he was much taller than her, and he thought that keeping up with her would hardly be a challenge, George had forgotten that he literally spent a year on the run. Her shorter stature made it easier for her to cut corners faster, making her far more agile. After nearly catching her the walls began to shake and suddenly a blockade was formed in the middle of the pathway he was running down, causing him to stop suddenly.

George heard Hermione sigh on the other side of the wall.

"Looks like Ginny made it out. You and I are now in the lead." She said.

"For now." George responded before he began running again.

He knew Hermione was actually ahead of him, but not by much. She had hit another checkpoint and he saw the walls begin to shake and twist. But his quick instincts and long legs allowed him to hurdle over a newly forming wall and continue in his chase. After another minute or so he saw sunlight coming from an archway on the left, he knew he had made it to the end. As he approached the exit he saw her. Hermione standing under the archway with the sun setting behind her with a small smile on her face. George, knowing that as soon as he was close enough, would again attempt to feel her lips against his. Yet, just when he was within reaching distance, Hermione took a step back, exiting the maze and causing it to transform. George was stunned into silence as an ivy leaf brushed the end of his nose. He could hear her laughing on the other side.

It wasn't long before he escaped the ivy madness, leaving poor Ron to fend for himself. He walked around the edge of the maze to find his mother preparing the outdoor tables for dinner. He elected to sit across from Hermione, giving her a lighthearted glare, to which she returned with a chuckle.

"Ginny dear, please release your brother from that…that…game, supper is ready." Molly said as she pointed at the atrocity that was suffocating her mums.

Ginny popped a cherry tomato in her mouth and grabbed a mason jar off the table. As she walked towards the maze, George watched the intricate wand movement as the maze suddenly seemed to shrink into the grass, leaving behind a single ivy leaf. Ginny picked it up and placed it inside the jar. Once she was back at the table he watched as she screwed the silver top back on the jar, and reached over to pluck it from her hands.

Like all the other products from that he had received, it had a small label attached.

The Labyrinth

Just when you think you're at the finish, you come around the bend to find yourself further from the truth.

George sighed and placed the jar back in front of his sister. He then pointed further down the table.

"Pass the rolls, please."


	8. Demons in Our Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Ermahgerd! A Chapter! Sorry for the wait...enjoy!

Chapter 8: Demons in Our Dreams

"We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours." –ditox (tumblr)

Holidays were always harder on George. Ye at the same time they allowed him to become so wrapped up in work that before he had a chance to reflect, they were over. Halloween was one of his favorites growing up, right after April Fools', of course. The mischief that youngsters could get into, yet could never be fully identified due to their costumes, made it a perfect holiday for the twins.

Mrs. Weasley possessed a rather odd looking doll as a child. It was made of porcelain face and cotton stuffing for the body. A rather unbalanced thing, but the painted handiwork of the face is what always seemed to give the twins the creeps. It was one night that Molly was making some minor repairs to the dolls dress, she was hoping that one day the doll would be passed down to her last and only female child. It was on such occasion that she was called away to attended to Ginny that Molly left the doll propped on the couch. George could do nothing but stare at the blasted thing that was positioned in such a way that its eyes were glaring holes in his head. He hated that doll. But then ickle Ronniekins, came marching into the living room, barely able to balance on his newly acquisitioned feet, grabbing onto the couch for better stability that he came face to face with the ghastly thing. The cries started off as a whimper, but were then at a rival with his sister's.

Fred and George were accused, of course, for doing something to upset their younger brother. But when they tried to explain that the doll possessed a magic to scare the dickens out of all Britain, they were scolded even further. The doll was an heirloom, something to be admired, were a few of the phrases that came from Molly's mouth to justify its beauty.

But it was from this point on that Fred and George made it a tradition to place the doll in various places of the house in which Ron would be unsuspecting, just to get a reaction. Buried in the toy chest just under a stuffed animal so that the face would pop out, in the bathroom closet laid upside down, head dangling, on the towels, in his sock drawer. And if they were up to it, they would wake up in the middle of the night to place it right on his pillow, so that when he awoke, it would be the first thing he saw.

"The demon doll." Became its new nomenclature.

Finally when Ginny became old enough, Molly had given the retched thing to her in a beautiful white box on her birthday, in which it still resides in, in the back of her closet.

The doll would make an appearance in their dreams every now and then, and Ginny would check to make sure that it was still locked securely in its box. It was one such morning, when Ron came down for breakfast looking like he hadn't slept a wink. When he described his dream that the demon doll had made an appearance in his trunk, while trying, in vain, to find his missing tie. He gave a shudder as he poured himself some juice.

It was then that inspiration struck George. What if you could give someone nightmares? Not, relive the war and suffer post-traumatic stress type of nightmares, but the kind that just give you the creeps. What if he came up with a whole Halloween line of products meant to spook and annoy?

The ideas came quick enough, but the engineering part is what always took him the longest to manufacture. It was Fred that could take an idea and almost instantly know just what charms or potions would mix well with others. While, George was a little more over cautious mixing magic. Pumpkin Seed Whiskey was one of the easier potions he made. Combining the extract of pumpkin seeds with various items of common fears. A few spider legs, a hair from a clown wig, a snippet of snake skin, a leaf from the tallest branch of a tree, wings from a bee…etc. Letting it simmer and then pouring it into refined whiskey bottles, George came up with the first nightmare potion.

His other two ideas were a lot harder to derive. The Glare of Medusa, the ability of turning your friends into stone was the one charm that proved the hardest. Like a petrificus totalus, you didn't want your friend to be frozen in time forever, it had to wear off. So making the charm strong enough to last at least an hour, but not so strong that a person was immortalized in stone forever. He placed the charm in glass eyes that were shielded in a felt bag. The only thing one had to do was take it out of the bag and glance at the iris, and they would instantly turn into a stone statue. Great use for temporary lawn ornaments for Halloween.

The last idea was the hardest, as George combing the fur coat of a werewolf for its shedding fur would likely get him killed, he needed to import the hair from Switzerland. It wasn't cheap, but thankfully as this was only a seasonal item, the cost over time would not outright break him. He had to finely grind the hair and place it in a commonplace spice jar. One would simply sprinkle a bit of the spice over someone's dish, and the results would be instant hair growth over the body. Over the next few days, the afflicted would go through a rapid shedding period and the need of mass quantities of a clog draining potion and a deep cleaning spell.

George barely made the deadline for the holiday. The production and packaging put him, Verity and Lee on overtime in order to get it out. Verity set up the display window in record time with fake cobwebs, never-molding jack-o-lanterns, and small dancing skeletons.

Once the models were in place and he released his friends for the evening. George took out his wallet and removed the card with worn edges. Giving it a flip between his fingers, pointer to pinky, the words on the back he was sending appeared:

"Trick or Treat"

As quickly as they appeared, they vanished within the cardstock.

As expected, the products were an instant success. George had made test sample ready for eager customers, they weren't as strong as the real products, as he didn't want human statues taking up what little space was available for patrons to walk through. Or having a broom and dust pan sweeping the floor every five minutes.

It was a few days before All's Hallow Eve, and George was taking a moment to watch the activity from the second floor landing. It was unusually busy for a Wednesday afternoon, but who was he to complain. Not so long ago, he almost couldn't walk through the front doors of the shop. The thought of continuing without his better half almost killed him inside. But here he was, thriving, flourishing, surviving, and dare he say it, at peace.

And yet, as he watched more customers come in to purchase one of his products, and black and silver bag was in at least half of their hands. He watched as a few patrons exchanged words about his Pumpkin Seed Whiskey, when the other held up their DD bag and pulled out a small round item. He watched as the strings in the center of it caught in the sunlight, and the delicate feathers and beading twirled in a nonexistent breeze. They seemed very excited about the two products and seemed to be making comparisons to both. The woman with the black and silver bag ended up purchasing two bottles of the whiskey while the other bought one and made a bee line for the door and down the alley.

There are times in life when people associate a smell, a song, or even an object with a feeling of annoyance. George was quickly developing such a feeling towards the colors black, white and silver. With a deep breath to keep him from expelling a curse word in public, he made his way down to the main floor and told Verity he was going to lunch.

He was in no mood for food as he approached the small shop. The shop was over crowded with customers, that George wasn't even going to attempt to make his way through to see the new attractions. Luckily, the proprietor had the thought to set up their own window display.

He Provides the Tricks,

We Provide the Treats.

The chalkboard sign read with a red and yellow arrow pointing towards his shop, while a white arrow pointed at their own new products. Hanging from the ceiling were puffy white and gray clouds. "Candy Floss Clouds," they were called and apparently they came in white raspberry, and gray caramel. The small round object that George had seen in his shop, was none other than a dreamcatcher. The bright silver strings in its core were glistening. He watched as a small black spider crawled along the edge of the circle and begin to weave a web, ready to catch a sleeper's dream. Once caught the dreams appeared on the web as a dew drop. Each dreamcatchers was as unique as the next, with feathers from ravens, doves, and owls. The gemstones of various colors hanging between the feathers. They were truly beautiful.

He almost debated going in and braving the crowds just to touch one of the clouds, when he felt to twinge in his pocket. The annoyance was back…

Here in the Forest Dark and Deep I Offer You A Peaceful Night's Sleep.

When George returned to the store, Verity waved him over to the register to hand him a black and silver bag.


	9. Saved A Wretch Like Me

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Sorry! This took far too long to post! The fact that it was HP weekend on ABC Family really helped! But here it is, a bit more character development in this one. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Saved A Wretch Like Me

"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness." –Unknown.

Ginny always had a knack for reading people. Even when she was younger, she knew when the tension between her brothers were brewing, before they even realized they were sore at each other. The longer she knew someone, the more she could pick up when something was off, or about to happen. It helped keep her sanity and safety when the twins were up to no good. Hermione, though, was always a little more difficult to read. She had this ability to hide her emotions as if she just closed a book she was reading. It was also entirely possible that when Hermione felt so strongly about something, she would let you now outright. Maybe it was because she was a muggle, she had the ability to hide her magic better than purebloods.

Lately though, Ginny started to notice something. The glances across the dinner table, whispers on the stairs. It seemed inevitable, taking up residence in a household where testosterone reigned supreme. But with the brother Ginny least likely expected. She never understood why people thought Hermione and Ron would make a great match, they were as volatile as a volcanic eruption. She could see Hermione finding Charlie a more suitable match, with their love for magical creatures. But, George, that took her while to fully understand.

So Ginny stayed quiet and studied the pair. She watched as George began to smile more, laugh more, even study theories alongside her as she did her work. Hermione seemed like a good influence on her older brother. So it was on this night, that Ginny went on the attack.

Her frizzy haired friend was already dressed for bed, propped up with her pillows on her bed reading an ancient looking book on pureblood laws. Ginny hung her robe on the back of her door and went to her nightstand for her hairbrush. She watched as Hermione rubbed her eyes and readjusted her glasses. She was tired, yet refused to stop for the night until she reached her acquired page. Ginny flipped her hair to the front of her shoulder to begin brushing.

"I know your little secret." She said as she worked out a tangle.

She watched as a small Malfoy-like smirk appeared at the corners of her mouth. She placed her finger in between the binding of the book, closed it, and removed her glasses.

"Which one?" Hermione asked as she turned towards her friend.

The brush froze halfway down her long auburn hair. Ginny thought she had the upper hand on this conversation, but two little words, took her by surprise. Ginny hated being taken by surprise.

"The one about you and George. What other ones are you keeping?"

"I'd hardly call that a secret. We haven't really been hiding the fact that we're interested in each other. We're just being…cautious. Neither of us is really sure if we're in a place where we can handle something serious right now. Between re-writing laws, and George getting his business back in the spotlight, we're just taking it slow."

"You're afraid to hurt him." Ginny stated as she put the brush on her comforter.

"Heart break is the last thing he needs." Hermione nodded.

"George has a fractured heart, but I think you're enough to help glue back a few pieces. I can see the changes in him. His drive to develop new items for the shop, the way he carries himself, even that mischievous twinkle is back. You're helping." Ginny explained.

"That was the plan." The smirk appeared on her face again, and Ginny still could not get a read on it.

Hermione reached for her glasses to place them on her bedside table and placed a bookmark in her book.

"You didn't answer my other question." Ginny said as she watched her friend tuck under her blankets.

"A girl as to keep a few secrets to herself." Hermione answered as she rolled away from her friend. "Good night, Ginny."

Another book closed.

Even in the wizarding world, workers were required to take personal days. It was in this manner that Hermione found herself in the middle of Diagon Alley instead of in her office pouring over ancient tomes on the obligation to keep the wizarding family lines pure, by way of arranged marriages.

November had arrived, and so did the ever dreary weather. It was cold, raining, and only a fool would choose this day to do their errands. But, Hermione was invited to a free hot meal this afternoon with the jokester. So she quickly made her way towards the shop, the bottom of her pants growing more and more wet with each step.

The shop stood out even on the gloomiest of days. Ever inviting, and intriguing to the most casual passerby. As she approached the shop's front steps, she noticed that George had taken his displays outside. All along the awning above the stairs, hung different sized icicles. She recognized them instantly. They were the ones he created by combing the Never Melts and the flame from the Never Dark lanterns. She watched as the rain water ran down the sides of the ice, giving it a melting look, but she knew in reality, they were doing the complete opposite. She reached up to close her umbrella and walked towards the door. As she reached the top step she noticed the temperature difference, instead of feeling cold and damp, she felt cozy and dry. It was as if the bottom of her pants weren't soaked to the top of her ankle. It was then that she looked down and saw that in fact, they were dry. George had combined a drying spell in with the ice.

As she entered the shop, she noticed that they too were feeling the effects of bad weather. There was only a hand full of customers milling about. Verity was reading the latest Witch Weekly behind the counter. As Hermione approached she could make out the cover picture and title.

Exclusive Interview with Draco Malfoy:

On his own, developing businesses both large and small.

Can he redeem himself?

'On his own, with the money from his inheritance no doubt. Git.' Hermione thought as she stared at the picture. It was when Verity cleared her throat that she noticed the witch had been waiting for her to speak.

"Sorry." She mumbled. "I was wondering if…"

"He's in the back." Verity interrupted and pointed to the door in the back corner.

"Thanks."

Hermione made her way between a row of cauldrons of sweets for the skiving snack boxes. She wasn't sure if she should knock, or just enter. It would probably be safer to knock, as the last time she opened something from the twins, she found herself sporting a black eye.

She gave the door a few soft raps with her knuckles and glanced around the shop to see if anyone noticed her. She waited a few seconds in mild anxiety, debating if she should try again with more force, when the door suddenly opened. She was surprised to see George in just a grey sweater and jeans. You would hardly ever see him in the shop without an obnoxious colored three piece suit.

"Hey. Come on back. I was just cleaning up." George said as he opened the door wider.

If George was cleaning anything in the back, he was make an awfully slow go at it. There were notebooks scattered amongst the tables, cauldrons stacked up waiting to be washed, ingredient bottles scattered.

"Would you like some help?" she asked.

"Nah. If there's one thing mum taught us how to do, it was a proper cleaning spell. Take a seat, I'll be ready in a moment." George pulled out a cleared stool for her and began to make his way around the workshop.

She glanced over at one of his notebooks, scratches and drawings that she could barely make out. One looked oddly like a snowman and a list of ingredients along the column. She was going to turn the page of the book, when it suddenly closed and levitated towards the shelf to her left. She looked up at George, who was shaking his head at her.

"Just can't get your nose out of a book, even on your day off." He smiled.

"Apparently not." Hermione nervously adjusted her collar to hide her blush, but in her habit ran her hand across the scar that resided there.

George approached her stool and lifted her chin to get a better look at it.

"The battle?" he asked, not recalling anyone getting that close to her to inflict such a precise wound.

Hermione shook her head, she brushed her jacket off her shoulders to allow access to her shirt.

"It was when we were held captive at Malfoy Manor. We were trying to escape and Bellatrix had a hold of me. She forced Harry and Ron to drop their wands or else…well." She pointed at the scar. "Luckily Dobby came to our rescue. This wound wasn't that serious, it just didn't heal nicely."

"That one wasn't serious, was there another that was?" George asked.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Do you remember when you and Fred opened the shop, and we came in during the summer?" she countered.

George nodded. "Yes, Ron wanted stuff for free, we gave Harry some Peruvian Darkness Powder, and you…complimented us on our daydream charm."

"Do you remember my black eye?" She asked. "You gave me a cream for it. Do you think it'll work on scars?"

Hermione pushed the sleeve of her shirt up and rotated her wrist to allow George to see.

"The same knife she held to my throat, did this as well. This one caused me to loss quite a bit of blood. Fleur did all she could to make it heal properly. But as you can see, it's still quite noticeable."

George took her wrist in his hand and ran his thumb over the raised letters on her arm. Such an ugly word on a pretty witch. He raised her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm.

"Mum actually concocted a serum for my ear. But it was used on a fresh wound. I don't know about older scars. Let me play around with it a bit." He explained as he readjusted her sleeve.

Hermione smiled and thanked him.

"Still hungry?" he asked.

"Famished, actually." She answered.


	10. Building the New

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, any and all influences from other books/stories belong to their prospective owners, and I just twist them to make it fit!

A/N: Kind of short, but hey, it's an update! Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Building the New

"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new." –Socrates

When you wake up in the very early morning in winter, what do you hear? The birds and insects have long sense vacated the region, the neighbors have the common sense to sleep in, the house may make the occasional 'pop' as it settles into its foundation. But if you really listen, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, and possibly the clock on the main floor slowly ticking away the darkness.

The proprietor liked to work in these pre-dawn hours. I was when more ideas became a reality. Displays were put together in an eye catching fashion. Careful planning was sketched out with a timeline. Packages are wrapped and awaiting delivery to the red head down the road. It was in these hours that the proprietor would visit the shop in person. The idea to remain anonymous came about on a whim. At first the owner wanted to come out into the open about the idea of opening such a shop, but did not like the idea of the attention it would draw. So the idea to remain behind the curtain became crucial.

The hiring of employees proved to be quite the challenge. When the ad was placed in the Daily Prophet, all it required was for the individual to have some experience in retail, and the opportunity to make their own hours. Of course there were plenty of applicants, but the proprietor had the ability to read people that would prove most beneficial to the cause.

When Mary first came in, the owner knew that she would be hired by the time she sat down. Mary was a mother with two children at Hogwarts, her son was a fourth year Ravenclaw and her daughter a second year Hufflepuff. After sitting around at home the last year with an empty nest, Mary decided she needed something to keep her days from being long and boring. Making a little money would help as well, the textbooks required this year had raised in price. The idea of working for a small shop with the option of picking your hours, seemed an ideal choice.

When Mary entered, she sat across a small black table from a man with dirty blond short hair. He seemed nicely dressed in a blue button down shirt and muggle jeans. It was not someone she recognized in the wizarding community. It was when he came right out and explained his appearance was hidden by polyjuice, that Mary became concerned. What type of person did not want to be recognized? He went on to explain that the shop was more about the products than the person trying to sell them. It was more about the product bringing life, hope and intrigue in magic back. It was more about making people smile.

After a tour of the products in the back storage room, that Mary knew she wanted to be a part of this project. She wanted to be there when customers would come in and see a spark of wonder in their face as they too investigated these brilliant ideas.

She was hired…on a few conditions. She would never try to dig into the owner's real identity, and to ensure that a one Mr. George Weasley was given every comfort the shop had at his request. Odd requests, yes, but Mary could handle a few weird happenings, she was a witch after all. She was to begin in a week, helping set the store front and hire any other additional help. She was given a black and silver card with which she could communicate with her boss about any needs for the shop.

Mary became an essential person to the shop. Running it during the shop hours, and spending time afterwards cleaning, and rearranging products to drive sales. She knew the products as if she herself had designed them.

The proprietor, now in the empty shop, sat at the bench in the back of the shop slowly waving the wand to allow small cogs and wheels to fall into the precise places. The beautiful silver framework shining under the lone desk lamp. As the owner twisted the last of the screws into the back and placed the small metal device on the table, the wand was waved above it in intricate designs. When there was once the silence, a slow progressive ticking filled the air.

The proprietor smirked. The countdown had begun.

There were few things in this new world that angered George Weasley. Running out of tea when the shop was closed, new products that don't sell, Ron eating the last slice of mum's apple cake, and Draco Malfoy. The git seemed to be everywhere these days. It started with small articles in the Prophet. Then the cover of that blasted magazine Verity reads when business is slow. And now in the Alley.

Bad things always seem to happen on his lunch break, the opening of a rival shop, longtime customers going into the rival shop, and now the blond ferret leaving said rival shop and making his way towards his own.

'I really should just start eating in the workshop." He sighed.

He followed the former death eater back towards his store. He watched as the blond seemed to stop and stare at the ostentatious shop before him, as if he never noticed it before. He watched as Malfoy took a deep breath and walked up the front stairs and into the shop.

George decided to keep his distance, no interaction with a Malfoy, is a good interaction. And he didn't want his lunch break to be completely ruined. George slide along the side of the building and pretended to inspect the display in the windows as he watched Malfoy make his way through the aisles. As he tried to get close to the register where Verity was bagging a purchase, he saw Malfoy avoid touching anything in the store as if he would catch Dragon Pox at the mere glance. When Verity finally had a second to breathe, Malfoy moved in. George watched as Verity apologetically answered the first of his questions. Then seemed to listen in surprise as Draco gave a long explanation, and handed her a black and silver package from his briefcase, along with a black card. Malfoy adjusted his jacket and firm grip of his case, gave Verity a sharp nod, and immediately left the shop.

George waited until Malfoy was out of sight before he entered his shop from the backdoor. He went to check on the scar fading potion he was simmering before he made his way to the front of the store. Verity has placed the black and silver package on the back counter. She pointed at it when she saw George approach.

"You'll never guess who just came into the store!" she squealed.

"Well, judging by the business card, I would say we were graced with the presence of one Draco Malfoy." George replied as he read the green lettering. "And to what did we owe the pleasure of his company?"

"Oh, he wanted to talk to you about a business opportunity, but wouldn't go into detail. He just left the card and the package. Do you think it's him?" she asked.

"What do I think is him?" George asked as he flicked the card towards the garbage bin and missed. He reached for the package. It was a sizable weight, rectangular in shape, but not a box.

George ripped off the silver ribboning and tore through the paper. It was a book. No title, no author, and blank pages within.

"Do you think he's the owner of DD?" Verity asked as she looked at the book.

George flipped through the pages, until he found lettering on one.

"You were unsure which pain is worse, the shock of what happened, or the ache for what never will."

He slammed it shut.

"I don't know." He whispered.


	11. Investment Options

A/N: Happy New Year! I severely apologize for how long it took to get this one out. Please enjoy!

Chapter 11: Investment Options

"I don't know where I stand with you. I don't know what I mean to you. All I know is every time I think of you, I want to be with you."- Unknown.

It had become a game back in Hogwarts. One that he and Fred had invented, of course, to make a little more money. Reading for pleasure or reading for research? The problem was when Hermione was reading she had moments when she would be taking multiple scrolls worth of notes, only to find that she found something rather fascinating about wizarding history when she was taking in a bit of "light reading." Other times she could be found curled up in a chair with a book, the girl had a photographic memory, so she would write her notes later on.

And it was here in the living room of the Weasley household that George found Hermione, curled onto one couch cushion with a large book in her lap, and a cup of tea in hand. His brother and best friend were also enjoying their day off by playing a game of chess on the floor. George was too far from the couch to get a real look at what Hermione was reading. Harry noticed the slight movement of George craning his neck. With a sigh of defeat, George glanced over to the black hired boy that was currently shaking his head. Harry made a slight attempt to see the cover of the book, but found that Hermione's knees were blocking the title. Harry shrugged then ran his hand through his messy hair. He tapped Ron's foot with his own and pointed out George in the corner, then to Hermione. Ron rolled his eyes, as he usually lost at this particular game. After making his decision, he scratched his nose. George nodded, ran his hand through his own hair, all bets were placed.

George made his way over to the couch and sat beside Hermione for a few minutes pretending to read the book that was dropped off at his shop. He watched as Harry's knight slide across the chessboard to check Ron. With a dramatic sigh, George reached over Hermione's knees, snatched the book from her hands while gently tossing his book at her. Thankfully, with all the years of being 'constantly vigilant' Hermione's reflexes were adapt. She caught the book with surprise and ease.

"Hey! I was reading that!" she scolded as she tried to grab it back.

"Let's trade. Mine is so dull and your book on…" George now took the time to look over her current page, "…banshees…banshees?" he asked.

Hermione nodded with a stone face.

"Yes, well, it's far more interesting than mine." George looked over at Harry and Ron, who shrugged in return.

"You boys are ridiculous with this stupid game. I hope you know that I have lied to you in the past just so you would lose. But as some of you could do with some extra money for the holidays, I am in fact reading for fun. Seamus was telling me all about the one that lived on his neighbor's farm when he was young. He claims that it killed the father when he went out to try to rid it of the property."

"Funny, he told me it killed the grandmother when she threw the cane at it." Ron replied.

"He said it killed off all the sheep." Harry chimed.

"Well, I guess we can conclude that Finnigan likes to tell tall tales, and that Ron needs to work an extra shift this weekend, pay up dear brother." George added as he held out his hand.

"I'll also have you know, I have not had ink on my nose while doing research in some time. You need a new signal." Hermione stated as she turned the book George threw at her in her hands.

The celtic designs on the cover were raised with a slight gold fading at the edges. She turned to read the binding only to find it just as blank as the cover. She opened the front cover and again, found nothing.

"New diary?" she asked as she began to hand the book back.

George shook his head, refusing to take it.

"Open it to the second page and wait." He instructed.

Hermione glanced over at Harry as his interest seemed to peak. She took a steady breath, waiting for the book to shoot 'clever' insults her way. She watched as the lettering on the page began to appear:

"When Rose was born, all human were given a timer. It was said that each person's timer would count down to a major life event. It was an ordinary day when she felt the timer in her purse vibrate. When she looked up, she saw him…"

"It's a book that judges its reader. It picks what it thinks you should read." George explained.

"This is interesting, how did you come up with a spell to change the stories?" Hermione asked as she continued to read.

"I didn't. It was another gift." He answered.

Harry groaned from the other side of the table.

"Mysterious books, given as a gift. I feel like we've been through this before."

"Oh, Harry. Surely, George didn't accept this from any dark wizard, and would have inspected it himself for curses." Hermione laughed.

"Funny you should say that…." George started.

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed and tossed the book onto the table and whipped out her wand before he could finish. George watched as both she and Harry stared to wave various spells over the book.

"Malfoy dropped it off in the shop the other day. Wanted to talk business apparently, but I wasn't there when he came." George explained.

"Malfoy has given gifts in the past, none of which had friendly intentions. This seems to be safe though." Harry said as he and Hermione finished their enchantments.

"Figured if the blond git wanted to off me, he'd at least want to be around." George shrugged. "Besides, it was wrapped in the signature black and silver that I've come to love."

"Can't see Malfoy creating all this stuff. Wonder what he was on about?" Ron asked.

"Not a clue." George said as he reached for the book.

The four of them sat in silence for a few minutes, when Hermione took a long inhale, a sign she was ready to change the subject.

"Speaking of gifts, I need to go to Hogsmeade this week, would you care to join me?" she asked George.

There was always something about this quaint little town that made George feel relaxed. Unlike the rush and bustle of Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade always seemed to invite you to take your time, explore the shops and area attractions. So when Hermione asked him to join her, he was more than obliged.

It was snowing, although, it always seemed to snow in Hogsmeade. But it was the pretty type, big fluffy flakes coming down slowly, deciding the perfect place to land. Many of which were getting trapped in Hermione's hair. She seemed to notice this when window shopping and promptly shook them out, complaining about frizz.

They walked from shop to shop browsing the wares in each window before deciding on an oddities stores. Hermione was looking for something for her parents, who had an odd yet refined taste in décor. He mother had a collection of mismatched tea cups from the various places they have visited on holiday, and she was hoping to find one here.

As George watched her wander the shop, he began to wonder, what do you get the girl that has everything for Christmas? It wasn't widely known, and they preferred it that way, that the trio as well as other honored heroes, were well compensated for their heroics during the war. Hermione could easily live off the money she received and never have to work a day in her life. But, knowing Hermione, she can't even handle the two days off she has to take a week. So, what do you get a war hero?

As he pondered this question over in his mind, his eyes were drawn to a shelf on his left. The bottles were all of various sizes and different amounts of dust covered them. He watched as some of the ships within the bottles were sailing on calm, while others seemed to be in the middle of a hurricane.

"My father has one of these. It doesn't move like these, though. My mother hates it." Hermione laughed as she stood next to him, bag in hand. "He apparently bought it in Australia and had it on the mantle of their living room. Even as she portrayed another person, she seemed to keep her sense of taste. She was not happy when she unpacked it when they returned. She made my father put it in his office at work."

"You should see if his ship has a name." George replied as he pointed out the name on the stern of one of the ships. "Old wizarding captains would retire their ships when they did, and since they couldn't very well put the ship in their garden, they started to shrink their ships enough to fit within the opening of a bottle, then enlarge it enough to fit comfortably within. If it has a name on the stern, chances are it was a wizarding ship."

"And here I thought they were assemble in pieces using tweezers." Hermione smiled.

George gave her a funny look.

"Muggles have these kits and you slide each part of the ship in using metal tools. It's considered an art form, quite challenging." She explained.

George shook his head, "It's amazing what they do without magic. You should get your father one of these, although, I don't wish to upset your mother, maybe he can start his own office collection. Can't say they'll move in the presence of muggles."

Hermione smiled at his and chose a bottle on the smaller side. The wood of the ship was on the darker side with the name 'Scarlet Rose' burned into the stern. He watched as she made her way back to the counter.

Each ship, in a different wave of weather, each invoking a different emotion. Sure a love potion can give off the scent of the person of interest, but what if you could bottle up a scent of places or things that bring you joy, peace, reminders. What if you could literally bottle up an emotion? The wheels started to turn as Hermione began to drag him out of the store.

Hermione had all but given up buying the boys books for the holidays, knowing that half the time they were used as paperweights or collecting dust on forgotten shelves. But that still didn't stop her from wanting to browse the shelves.

As they made their way down the street, she was explaining the book about laws were passed in the wizarding world when a voice interrupted her.

"You are a hard one to get in contact with Weasley."


	12. Opportunist

Chapter 12: Opportunist

A/N: sorry for the delay…between running a major fundraiser for my job, and catching pneumonia, it's been a hell of a month. Also, researching on what investors do is REALLY boring!

"The goal isn't more money, the goal is living your life on your own terms." –Chris Brogan

George could simply reach his hand and take the wrapped butter knife in the napkin to cut the tension in the booth. Never had a drink taken so long to arrive when he came here during school, and Merlin knew, how much he needed that alcohol to arrive to the table. The tension was not so much between him and the young blond that sat across the table. But rather with Hermione, who was absentmindedly scratching her forearm, and the greasy ferret. Both seemed to be biting their tongue at the moment.

Draco Malfoy had stopped them during their shopping trip to talk about the potential of investing in his shop. Apparently he had been trying to get in contact with him since the day he dropped off the gift. George's curiosity was slightly peeked. Watching the blond scan the pub, trying to keep his line of vision on anything but the two in front of him. He would occasionally readjust his tie, shift his briefcase, and straighten the already perfect stacks of paper in front of him.

When their drinks finally came, it took everything in their power not to drink the whole of it and order another round. It was George that broke the silence, wanting to get this over and done with so Hermione could finish her shopping.

"Well, you must have something important to propose if you're willing to be seen with us in public." George egged.

Malfoy simply stared at him a moment, seeming to run through a list of replies before settling.

"I have recently come in to a large sum. While, I would like nothing but to disappear into the English countryside and live out the rest of my natural life without being in the spotlight, this money comes with a few stipulations.

"I am required to invest the initial sum into respectable businesses. However, my return on investment is mine to keep. I could easily retire by 30, _if_ I choose wisely." He paused to take another drink.

Before he continued, he passed the first stack of paperwork to George, who merely glanced at the cover page, before passing it over to Hermione. She took it with morbid curiosity, and began to look over the spreadsheets, charts, and analysis forms.

"Your shop has only ever had a decrease in business when you closed it for the war. Yet, from the second you and your brother opened it to the time you took sole control it has always been in the black. Throughout the recent months, you've been met with a fierce competitor, yet your sales have never faltered. This caught my attention. Not to mention the contract you have with the Ministry." Draco glanced over at Hermione who was still going over the paperwork with a fine tooth comb.

Draco seemed to take both of their silence as the moment to continue. He took a breath before sliding over the larger stack of paperwork.

"This is an agreement. I am willing to invest 100,000 galleons over the next five years, but I receive 15% of your profits."

George flipped through the pages in front of him. That much money would easily allow him to produce more products in a shorter amount of time, especially since he could hire more staff for the back room. But something was itching at the back of his mind.

"What did you offer to Defiantly Devious?" he asked as he slightly pushed the stack towards Hermione.

Draco blinked, looking taken aback.

"You obliviously met with the owner, how else did you come by the package you dropped off? Or did one of employees give it to you? I can't see Mary talking percentages." George probed.

"I did meet with someone…that claims to be the owner." Draco hesitated. "When I went there, the person I met with was a woman, sounded like a woman, but in fact, she told me that she was under the guise of polyjuice, a hair from a random muggle. So I don't know who I actually met with. They are a much newer company, I'm taking a bit of a risk with them. I usually prefer to study a company's sales for the last six month to a year before deciding to spread my wealth. Yet, the mere fact that they have been able to match your sales profits from the moment they opened, I felt the need to take a leap of faith.

"Their deal is not as extensive as yours. Half as much actually. Like I said, I have plans to live a quiet, needless life in a few years."

George leaned back in his chair and took a drink. He glanced over at Hermione who was reading some of the smaller print of the contract. She looked over at him with an impressed look, but knowing he would need to look over the file himself.

George slowly nodded as he processed everything. He took a deep breath, and turned back to Hermione, thumbing over to Malfoy.

"He called my shop respectable."

"So I've been doing some research…" Hermione said as she sat on the couch next to George.

"Shocking!" Harry replied as he helped Ginny hand ornaments on the tree.

His comment earned him a glare, which he laughed off, until one particular bulb on the tree grew brighter and brighter before bursting, causing Harry to jump.

"Shocking…" she countered. "Anyways, after reading through the contract, I was going through some articles on other businesses where Malfoy's money has come into play. Surprisingly, none of them have had any scandal of taking death eater funds, and they all seemed to greatly profit from the investment. In fact, from what I've read, the money is coming from his mother's side, not Lucius. I wonder if she's making him do this. Learn from the sins of his father? This might be something to look into."

"Not gonna lie, that kind of money would take a lot of stress off me. Just not sure if I should trust him." George said as he tossed the paperwork onto the coffee table.

"You could always have Hermione put one of her signature contract jinxes on it. I hear Mariette Edgecombe still has a slight pink scarring across her face." Ginny suggested as she levitated the star to the top of the tree.

"Still the best jinx I've seen." Harry laughed.

The mastermind behind DD didn't seem to wait for George to respond in kind since sending him the book. Instead they seem to go on with the holiday sales just like every shop in the alley. But instead of the traditional red and green found in every product this time of year, these were a dark purple and silver. A break from the shops signature color. It was in this case that these products drew more attention to their front window.

A smart set of weekend bags and small luggage were set up on the floor of the window. These items were displayed with a sign that promised an extension charm for all their traveling needs. Above the bags was a table with small rounded purple bottles with a silver cork.

Christmas Sleep Draught

Sugarplum Dreams from the Daily Stresses of the Holidays

'I could use that right now.' George thought as he sat on his bench outside the small shop. Merlin, he was tired. The holidays were always busy. Extended hours open hours at the shop, meant more hours accounting for every sale, and product replacement. A good night sleep would be appreciated. He was turning into a real Scrooge lately…

…Scrooge…Christmas…potions!

George stood up and hurried back to his office before he lost this train of thought.

Bah Humbug!


	13. Ornaments

Chapter 13: Ornaments

"At Christmas, all roads lead home."- Marjorie Holmes

Early in the morning, when the house is dark and silent, Molly Weasley make a quiet cup of tea and charms the appropriate cookery from its cabinets. Cooking for ten people on a normal day was a full time job within itself, but on a holiday, it required only the best courses she could make. She would start with the bread, while charming the knives to chop up the vegetables and herbs for dinner. After bread would be breakfast, toast, eggs, bacon, cinnamon buns with white icing, making a fresh pot of tea and chilled pumpkin juice all ready for when the family awoke. She would nibble in between preparing cookies and pies for dessert. Once breakfast was cleared, it was time to organize for dinner. The ham would be washed glazed and prepped for the oven. The vegetables would be steamed or mashed. The gravy recipe passed down for generations would be glanced at before perfected in a pot. Occasionally, a member of the family would wander in for a quick nibble, but everyone knew to save their appetite for later.

As they grew older, the Weasley children all silently came to an agreement that Hell would freeze over before any of them ever hosted Christmas in their own homes. Unless they wanted to deal with the wrath of their mother. Molly could be heard complaining about how it wasn't easy to feed a many mouths that occupied her home, so when she handed out a task to be completed, it was better to smile, nod, and get it done. Yet at the end of the night when everyone was gather around the table enjoying the fruits of her labor, Molly would smile and know that it was all worth it.

It was on such a night, as everyone was enjoying their Christmas pudding that Fleur complimented Molly, but also suggested that she and Bill host next year. George almost dropped his spoon at the comment and looked at his older brother. Bill looked just as surprised as everyone else at the table, he knew better, and he thought he had made it clear that Christmas was always a definite at the Burrow. He smiled nervously at his mother as he reached over to pat his wife's hand.

"Not sure the cottage could accommodate all of us dear." He advised. "Especially now with all of Victorie's stuff."

The thought of their current estate and two of the three bedrooms belonging to their one child, seemed to have made it abundantly clear it was not going to happen. Everyone at the table seemed to release the breath they were holding at once and continue to eat their pudding.

After the dishes were charmed to clean and dry themselves, the family retired into the living room where Molly insisted on listening to the warbling sounds of Celestina Warbeck. Arthur was at the side table in the corner of the room, preparing a handful of nightcaps.

"I have to say, that one of the few things in the muggle world that is better has got to be Christmas music." Harry said as he cringed at one of the higher notes being admitted from the radio.

Hermione, sitting on the floor in front of George, nodded in agreement. A smile spreading across her face as she and Harry shared their favorite songs. They laughed as Harry attempted to sing a version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Hermione turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"What traditions does your family have on Christmas?" George asked her.

"Oh, well when I was younger my mother's family would come to our house for dinner. We didn't see them as often as my father's family, so we would all open the presents we bought for them after dinner. Then on Christmas day, we would have breakfast, open our gifts, then we would travel to my grandparents. But since their passing, the last few years, my family and I have just gone on holiday for Christmas. It's quiet, but it's nice to spend time with them." She explained.

"Far better than mine." Harry chimed. "Awake until past one in the morning to clean and do dishes, awake at five to prepare breakfast. I was lucky if I got a hand-me-down sock from Dudley. I knew early on there was no such thing as Santa. I was the one that had to wrap all thirty-five gifts for my cousin. This though," he said as he looked around, "this is Christmas."

One by one the Weasleys began to turn in, whether it was the excitement for the next morning, or full stomach's needing the time to digest. Hermione and George were left, sitting on the couch together staring at the flames in the fireplace. Hermione nestled closer to George.

"My parents would always have the fireplace burning on Christmas. They thought it brought not only a since of warmth to the holidays, but added to the décor. When I was little I had a growing concern that if they left the fireplace lit, then the only way Santa could enter the house would be through the front door. I was not happy about it. I wanted him to stick with tradition and come down the chimney to deliver my gifts. But my parents would assure me that they would douse the flames before bed. I was six when I realized that Santa was a myth. I heard quite a bit of rustling downstairs, and went to investigate, only to find my mother adjusting the gifts under the tree, as my father filled our stockings," Hermione explained. "I felt cheated in a way that my classmates were still so excited about this mythical man that came on a sled. I felt as if I had been told that magic wasn't real."

George laughed through his nose.

"Then you found out you were a witch." He replied as he stared at the tree in the corner of the room.

"I'm still waiting for the day for someone to tell me it's not real." Hermione said as she looked at him.

"Well, I may have something to help you remember that it is indeed real." George said as he flourished his wand.

A small package wrapped in the signature fuchsia and gold with a green bow came floating over to the couch. It was square in shape, too large to be a jewelry box, not that she was ready for sure a thing. It was light in weight, she almost feared a decorated spring to jump out of the container. George did love the old fashion muggle pranks. She untied the ribbon, as she tried to read his expression, it was the same excited look he had just before a good prank. She paused for a moment.

"Maybe…maybe I should wait to open it tomorrow…you know on Christmas…in front of witnesses." She smiled as she handed it back to him.

George shook his head and put his hands around hers, pushing the box back towards her lap.

"I solemnly swear it is not a prank. Just a gift." He raised his hands up in confirmation.

Hermione squinted her eyes at him, then sighed.

She peeled the tape off the paper to reveal a brown cardboard box. She found the small latch that kept the lid closed, and flipped it out. Lifting the lid, she was met with wrinkled tissue paper. She dug her fingers in the box to feel for the object within. She was met with a smooth circular object.

The ornament was a clear glass affixed with a gold string. At first she thought he had placed a wizarding photo within, yet when she turned it in her hand, she was met with a side and rear view of her parent's house.

The yard was cover with a few inches of snow. It seemed as though her father had just cleared the front walk and stairs. The white lights her mother had insisted her father hang the day after Thanksgiving were shining brightly from the front porch. Through the living room window, the Christmas tree stood, welcoming the signs of Saint Nicholas and his gift.

"I…it's beautiful." She whispered as she watched the snow lightly fall on the yard.

"Everyone should be home on Christmas. The fact that you choose to spend it with us, means more than you could know. But, that doesn't mean, you can't be without them as well." George explained.

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him. With her hand on his face, she wanted him to know just how wonderful she thought his gift was. After they break, they keep their foreheads together.

"Merry Christmas George." Hermione whispers.

"Merry Christmas Hermione."


	14. Lucky To Be

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but we are approaching the end, possibly 2 more chapters...enjoy!

Chapter 14: Lucky To Be

"I find the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." –Thomas Jefferson

The smell was overwhelmingly beautiful. In the summer his mother would have all the windows on the ground floor open and the smell of her roses, the lilacs, honeysuckles and dahlia's would waft through the entire house. As George stepped into the Alley that morning, it was this similar smell that greeted him. The only problem was, it was February, not June. On a normal day in wizarding England in the middle of this month, the only thing you could smell was burning chimneys, and the threat of snow in the air. So have these smells take him to his favorite season needed investigating.

He knew the answer before he even saw the shop. It didn't matter though, he wanted to see it for himself. He had distanced himself from the rival shop for the last few months, taking the time to plan the fresh amount of galleons he now possessed courtesy of Malfoy Inc. And yet, it seemed that the small shop down the lane had done the same.

He saw Mary, dressed in her work robes, rearranging a vast amount of flowers in baskets that were set up on a charming rolling cart outside of the shop. Mary stepped to the side and began to pull vases out of a box and arranged them around the cart. As she did so George saw the sign:

Everlasting Bouquets:

Flowers to withstand the length of your love.

Guaranteed to keep that freshly picked aroma.

'Damn. Magically modified flowers…never even thought…'

"Good morning Mr. Weasley!" Mary interrupted. "Care to make an arrangement? Surely a young lad such as yourself has a sweetheart?"

She was holding out a rather large vase for him to take, but instead he reached over and grabbed a much smaller one and placed a single yellow rose in it.

"As a matter of fact, there is, but she isn't one for showboating. The simpler the better, you see." He smirked.

"Of course, she must be quite the extraordinary girl. Why not take one for yourself." She said.

Before George could protest, Mary stuck a matching yellow rose to his lapel.

"Free of charge, of course. Happy Valentine's Day!" she smiled as she turned to empty another box of vases.

He stared at the flower in the vase, it was sure to be a hit during the holiday, how did he not think of it. Oh, that's right, he was busy expanding his WonderWitch line, protective jewelry, and candles that changed scent depending on the mood of the room. Possession, items, trinkets, not the thoughtfulness of something as simple as a flower. And while the ridiculously overpriced flora would die within a matter of a week, these were breed to withstand the test of time. Just like the love someone might have for another.

While George sat there and wanted to be angry over the outside of the box thinking that the proprietor of Defiantly Devious seemed to possess, it was just that, outside of the box. The two shops weren't exactly rivals in a sense that they were two joke shops trying to outwit one another, they were simply two shops trying to bring the joy back into a life once filled with darkness.

George sighed in realization and stood to check on the dipping of his new candles when his head collided with something. George ducked and rubbed his head as he looked up at the offending object.

It was beautiful. He recognized the main portion of the floating object as a lightbulb that had artistically wrapped wire along the outside. Underneath the base of the bulb hung a small metal basket. The light within the bulb would flicker on when the small hot air balloon would dip below a certain level. As it began to lower itself back to his eye level he noticed a small note rolled within the basket.

"After all the words, and all the ink and all the blank pages painted black with the adjectives of you, one thing is abundantly clear: Nothing I write will ever be enough to sum you up."

As the shortest month of the year, February came and went with the sailing of the wind. March brought more rain and slightly warmer temperatures. The sting of winter air had gone and was replaced with mud, fog, and grey skies.

Through all the haze of the Alley, shoppers could find their way to the little black and silver shop by the way of small lights floating in the front window. Each one with a uniqueness that appealed to every individual. Some would try to find a few that closely matched to display at home. While others, especially the younger crowd, would by them with the sole purpose to send love letters to another. A young Mr. Potter had been seen purchasing one such balloon in order to help him deliver an inherited diamond ring to the window of Miss Ginny Weasley.

Needless to say, after word got out about how Harry had proposed, the miniature hot air balloons became a very popular item.

The proprietor walked around the back of the small shop. Today she walked around as the muggle barista in the coffee shop that the proprietor liked to indulge in. This young girl really needed to keep her hair back while working in the bakery, the mere fact that the hair used was located on the purchased donut, slightly disgusted the shop owner.

A few tables in the far back were cover in potting soil and rocks, while the one closest to her had an open umbrella laying upon it.

'Bad luck to have an open umbrella indoors.' She thought.

With spring right around the corner, it was important to get these last few products ready. There was an important deadline approaching, and the time spent incognito would soon be no more.

The proprietor took out her wand and aimed it at the umbrella. A stream of water shot from the tip and straight at the umbrella. When the charm ceased, the entire table surrounding the umbrella was completely dry, as though the water was reflected away.

The shop owner turned to the back of the workroom. At first glance, one would wonder why someone would want to grow a weed, but as she walked further down the table she plucked one of the older dandelions. She held it up to her face and thought for a moment. When the time was right, she blew and sent the seeds across the room where they landed in the puddle of water on the floor by the umbrella. She watched as the water began to evaporate, leaving the floor dry. A wish come true.

George hated March. The weather was atrocious, he hated the rain more than he hated snow. The wind at the beginning of the month was relentless, even though it didn't carry the bitterness of the winter. It was also a reminder that in a few short weeks, he would be "celebrating" his birthday. His birthday, not their birthday, just his. He tried not to think on it. Instead, it was on a particularly windy day, when he entered the shop focusing on fighting to fix his umbrella that had inverted itself, that an idea had struck. He threw the mangled umbrella to the side and entered his workroom. He grabbed an empty butterbeer bottle from the bin and stuck his arm out the back door. He listened as the wind whipped across the lip of the bottle to form a low hum. He angled the bottle until he felt satisfied that it was filled with the invisible air and re-corked the top. He set the bottle on his table, took out his wand and began to test out charms.

A/N: So now the hot air balloon on the banner should make sense...let me know what you think!


	15. Looking For Answers

A/N: Hey, look! An update! Get ready cause we are drawing towards the end.

Chapter 15: Looking for Answers

"Silence isn't empty, it's full of answers."- Unknown

 _Early March_

"I need your help with something." Harry whispered in her ear.

Hermione had been sitting on the couch, fully immersed and disgusted with the blood magic behind the recent set of pureblood laws she was trying to dismantle. She turned to look over the back of the sofa, to find her best friend kneeling with his head resting on the back of the couch. He had a light in his eye, that either called for a bit of merry mischief or he had a task to accomplish. Hermione hoped for the latter. Closing her book, she twisted to face her friend with a smile.

"What is it?" she whispered back, ready to commit said conspiracy.

"I need you to come with me." Harry said as he jumped up and took the heavy book off her lap and unceremoniously tossed it on the table with a large 'thud.'

She would have yelled at him for treating her books so carelessly, but he had grabbed her arm and forced her to stand, before she could get the words out. With a quick twist, Hermione could feel the familiar squeezing, pulling and unnatural stretching of appartion. When her feet were finally rooted to the ground, she found herself in the busy cross-section of Diagon Alley.

It was cold today. The sun had decided to remain hidden behind the thick clouds that never seemed to disappear. Hermione crossed her arms to maintain some semblance of warmth, as she glared at Harry, for not letting her grab her coat. Harry rolled his eyes at her as he cast a warming charm around them. Once comfortable, he took her hand and began walking down the road a piece.

"What are we shopping for?" Hermione asked as they neared the front stoop of Defiantly Devious.

Even against the bland sky, the small shop seemed to still draw the attention of shoppers walking by. The well-lit front display, seemed to draw passerby's as if aching for a glimpse of a few sunrays through the drizzle.

"One of these." Harry pointed to the window with an air of excitement.

When they entered the shop, they found it to be quite crowded. There was a line at the register that seemed to wrap its way towards the front of the store. Harry managed to guide the two of them through the crowd towards the front window to look at their options.

Levitating before them were intricately designed muggle lightbulbs that were wrapped with wires and colorful jewels. Each of them would slowly light up as they would begin to rise, hover for a few seconds before slowly descending back towards the ground. They would be within inches of the floor before their "fire" would repeat their flight. The store was filled with these tiny hot air balloons, and everyone seemed to want one.

"What do you think of this one?" Harry asked as he pointed out a copper wrapped bulb in the corner.

As it descended into his hand, Harry held it out to Hermione. It was beautiful. The copper wiring formed gentle swirls around the bulb where it held turquoise and white moonstones into place. The small basket under the bulb was weaved with the same wiring with enough space to hold a large marble.

"It's quite beautiful, Harry. Is it for Ginny?" She asked as she looked the balloon over.

She saw Harry nod out of the corner of her eye, and saw him fish in his pocket.

"I just need to make sure this will fit in it." He said as he held out his hand.

In his palm was a simple, yet newly varnished gold engagement ring.

"It was my mother's. I don't think there's any other person in this world more worthy to wear it. I just hope she accepts." Harry said as he placed the ring into the small basket.

Hermione smiled at her friend, as she handed the balloon back to him.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Harry."

The weather in March can be so unpredictable. One minute you're freezing your arse off, and the next, you're opening the windows to basket in a gentle warm breeze. Thankfully for George, it was helping his growing supply of bottles.

It was on this night that George was coming down from Ron's cluttered bedroom with an air full of empty butterbeer bottles that he found Hermione sitting on the window bench on the landing between the second and third floor. She had a book in her lap, but was not paying it a bit of attention. It was when one of the bottles slipped from his arms and came crashing down the four stairs that Hermione had whipped her head around.

"Why is it every time we run into each other, it involves you breaking glass?" she asked with a light glare.

"Because it breaks my heart to see you sitting there so sadly that even your book can't bring you a smile?" he suggested.

Hermione shook her head and waved her fingers to lift the bottle off the ground. It was then that she noticed how many he was holding.

"Should I be concerned?"

George laughed as he placed the remaining bottles on the last step.

"With the tidiness of Ronald's room? Yes, you should." He paused as he patted her legs to make room on the bench. "Think of your favorite holiday you took with your parents." He commanded as he settled in.

He watched as she furrowed her brow trying to go over the numerous trips she had taken over the years. He could see the exact moment when she found one. She smiled as she looked over at him.

"Got it? Okay, now imagine the weather that day. Was it sunny, raining, windy…?"

"It was actually snowing during that trip." She answered as she watched him twirl his wand.

A brown bottle, just like the ten or so that were currently sitting on the stair a few feet away, had appeared in his hand. This one, however, had been cleaned and repackaged. One of the famous magenta and green labels had been affixed to the bottom of the bottle, the corkscrew replaced and sealed at the top.

 _Weather in a Bottle_

The bottle was completely empty, but this one felt as though this one had just been removed from the fridge. She looked back at George, and he nodded to assure her that it was safe. She laughed as she unwrapped the purple seal. She pulled on the cork and waited.

It took a moment before she felt it. The fresh, calm, icy air that filled her lungs as she race her father down the ski slopes. She felt her nose and cheeks turning red and cold, she could see her breath despite the fact that the air coming from the open window was mild. It was refreshing, but more importantly happy. It was amazing how the weather could affect your mood.

She looked over at George, who was shyly scratching his shoulder.

"That's just one, of the two dozen I've come up with." He explained as he summoned two other bottles. "I was mad at the rain the other day, and I just wished for a bit a sunshine for once, and I got the idea."

Hermione took the two other bottles in her hand. One was greatly warmer than the one that now laid in her lap, and the other seemed to be lightly shaking. As she inspected the labels he could see why:

 _Weather in a Bottle_

 _Wild sea breezes (fill your sails or cool your soup)_

"I thought about making that one out of milk bottles, maybe then the breeze would be strong enough to blow those hot air balloons away." He laughed.

Hermione reached out for his hand.

"Having competition seems to have been doing you good. You have put a lot of yourself into your work lately and look what's happening, you have one of the most popular shops in the alley. You're helping people recover from a time of darkness with your products and ideas. _You_ are making people happy." She whispered.

But the words did not have the impact she had hoped for. She watched as he absorbed her speech, and his face fell.

"Then why don't I feel happy?" he asked as his voiced cracked.

Her other hand went to his cheek as her thumb stroked away an escaped tear.

"'Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.'" She quoted as she brought her forehead to his. With bottles between them, the warm night air assisted a small hot air balloon with a tiny ring past their bench to a window one floor above them.

A/N: And thus, the reason there is a hot air balloon on the story thumbnail! Hermione's quote is from Dumbledore a la GOF. Let me know what you think!


	16. Smoke and Enlightenment

A/N: In honor of the twins birthday...

Chapter 16: Smoke and Enlightenment

"Love is a smoke made with fume of sighs." – William Shakespeare

The date was drawing nearer, and the closer it came the older George felt. Not just in the sense that he would be a year older, but physically older. There was a weight that seemed to affect every cell of his body. It would not become a day he could ever enjoy, or celebrate again. There was a hole, a void that could never be filled. He did note that being with Hermione had helped some. With her, he could be himself. With her, he could be happy. With her, he could forget, even if it was just for a moment. But nothing could ever make him wholly forget his other half, his better half.

He created this business with him, and now he would create for him. He debated closing the store for that particular day, but George knew that if he did, he would either lock himself in his room, or be hounded upon by his mother. It was better for him to throw himself into his projects. Spring was in the air. At least it would be if it ever stopped raining.

Yet, it seemed at this time both competing shop owners had the same idea in mind. Tools for better weather and mood lifters. While the theme was the same, shoppers couldn't help marvel at how well the two shops seemed to have their own ideas at how to help the community. The owners would find that no sooner did a client leave their shop with a bag in hand, that they would travel down the alley to purchase the competitor's model.

George had spent hours dipping and re-dipping wicks into thick red wax. The idea had come from a story Hermione had told him about the time she had first smelled amortentia. The peculiar smells of parchment and freshly cut grass were intriguing to him. So along with bottles of sought after weather, George had created a candle that would give off a desired scent that could change based off the burner's mood. It didn't come easy. The first time had had lit one of his candles, he was enjoying a working lunch with Hermione and Verity. While he and Verity were in between bites of sandwiches Hermione had brought over from a muggle deli nearby, the candle burned, and they took stock of ingredients and merchandise.

By the time George went back for a mouthful of chips, he was certain that the candle was not working for all he could smell was Hermione's shampoo. He became frustrated and blew it out. Hermione watched as the grey smoke danced in the air as he walked passed it. Curious, she watched as the red wax began to cool as it dripped down the side. With the snap of her fingers she re-lit the candle. With the renewed heat blazing across the top of the candle, she could smell a combination of cinnamon and pine trees. It smelled like Christmas. A time in her younger days when she was most curious about the packages under the tree.

She watched as George scratched away at his checklist, when the smell finally hit him. He turned to see where the delightful scent was coming from and found Hermione pointing to his candle.

"They work." She stated matter-of-factly as she stole a chip from his platter.

The monotone store down the road had decided that if they could not change the weather, then they would work with it. The umbrellas were ingenious, he had to admit that. An impervious charm strong enough to repel the water a good three feet from the rim. It did not matter if the wind changed the direction of the wind, the user would be ensured that they would remain dry. Nothing was worse than saggy, wet pants and footwear during this weather. They came in signature black, white, and checkered pattern. But if that wasn't enough, you could take your chance at wishing the rain away.

At first he thought the shop had started to neglect the flower pots outside the shop, as the planters were filled dandelions, some with bright yellow florets, while many had taken the white seeded globe. All one had to do was pluck the white flower from the pot, and simply make the desired wish. George had wondered how many of these weeds would make this store disappear.

The truth of the matter was he had grown used to the small boutique down the alley. Hermione had been right, the competition had been good for him. Had this store not opened, he wasn't sure what would have become of his shop. Sure, the Ministry had a hefty contract that he could easily live off of. But what was there to live for if he did not invent?

It was the morning he use to look forward to the most. To have your birthday and your favorite holiday on the same day, it was almost destined that he and Fred became pranksters. But now, it was just another day older and another day without him. He had hoped that as time went on it would get easier, more reflective even, but not this year. George showered and dressed as if every move he made would cause him to break. He dreaded going down to breakfast. In hindsight, he should have gotten up and left for the store before anyone else woke up. It was too late for that now. He made his way down the disproportionate staircase, tucking his loose tie under the collar of his shirt. The headache he woke up with seemed to be worsening with each step closer to the kitchen.

Yet, when he reached the bottom, he was not met with the sympathetic, half-hearted birthday wishes he was used to getting each year. In fact, he was ignored. He found the kitchen to be full of the people he shared the household with all surrounding the kitchen table. Normally this would not surprise him, as his mother made enough food to feed a small country, but not a single one of them was sitting. His father was reading over a letter, while the rest of the family seemed to be peering into a bag.

"People may tell you that life goes on. Yet, for you that may be the saddest part. While the sorrow can seem too great to bear, and the tears may never stop, just remember that a garden cannot grow without rain. Hold the stone near your heart, hold onto the love. Bury the loss in the soil and watch as the beauty of your loved ones bring you peace." Mr. Weasley read quietly.

George stood next to Hermione as he peered into the burlap bag filled with smooth white stone and ridged black ones. He watched as his mother wiped away a tear with the bottom of her apron, straightened her back, and reached for a rock. The family stood there silently as they watched the mother figure clutch the stone to her chest.

At first she seemed to be concentrating heavily on a memory, her brow was deeply furrowed, her nostrils flared, and her closed eyes barely containing the tears. By her third breath, they could see the changes, the lines in her face began to smooth out and the muscles in her shoulders relaxed. She opened her tear filled eyes with a small smile. She looked down into her hand and silently made her way to the back door.

The family followed, some with wands at the ready, concerned that she had just been put under an Imperious curse. She did not go far though. Just off the back steps, Molly lowered herself to her knees and dug a small hole near her herb garden. George stood on the bottom step and watched as she placed the small stone in the hole and proceeded to cover it. Once she had finished packing the dirt back into place, she stood next to her husband, who placed a hand on her shoulder.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, it wasn't long when a small green seedling emerged from the soil. Slowly, the seedling grew into a single white daisy. Molly patted her husband's hand and made her way back into the house. She stopped to squeeze George's arm and brought the side of his forehead to her lips. Slowly, the rest of the family made their way back into the house to help make breakfast.

George continued to stare at that little white flower. His mother had smiled. It was the first time he had seen a true, genuine smile from her on this day. This magic, this soul touching, healing magic, was nothing he had ever seen. Someone was healing people in ways he could only imagine. Someone was healing his family, someone was trying to heal him. He came back to reality when he felt her hands encircle around his neck.

Hermione was still standing on the top step, standing just an inch above him, she gently turned him so that she may work an intricate knot into his tie. When she lifted the knot into place and smoothed the fabric on his chest, she looked to him as if to say something. But in that instant, he felt a warmth radiate in his pocket. She watched as he sighed and fished the now fraying card out of his pocket.

'Ask and you shall receive.' It read. George silently questioned the card, but Ginny suddenly appeared at the back door.

"George," she hesitated, "a gift was just delivered for you."

She opened the screen door for her brother and friend to enter the kitchen. Everyone was seemed to stealthily watch George in between bites of toast and sips of coffee as he neared the table. The present was small and incredibly light. He lifted the silver and black stripped box and removed the white bow that kept the box lid in place. He took a few breaths before he lifted the lid. There, in the middle of black shredded paper, lay a single white birthday candle.

The shop was quiet. Correction, the entire alley was quiet. His birthday fell on a Saturday this year, one of the busier days of the week for the shop. Granted, school was in session, but even his owl post orders had been light. Verity had managed to complete all the orders within the first two hours of the shop opening. George stood at the front of the shop and watched the foot traffic out the window.

Even his competitor seemed to be affected by the low sales, as Mary the clerk was hand sweeping the front walk. With the thought of the small shop down the alley, George's hand went to his pocket, where he fingered the small candle he received that morning. He pondered over the message he received that morning from the mysterious shop owner.

'Ask what?' he wondered. He had so many questions. Where could he even begin?

At seven o'clock, the dinner time rush came through and distracted George long enough from his earlier thoughts. It was as though people had forgot it was the only prank worthy day of the year, and suddenly needed as many of his items they could possess. By ten o'clock George walked the last customer of the night out the front door. With a wave to Verity, that told her not to bother cleaning tonight, George made his way to the back office. He collapsed in his chair.

The headache that had been festering had now found a home right behind his eyes. He slouched further in his seat and brought a hand to his eyes. He tried to rub the pain away until he saw stars, but he knew that would do it no good. He had held it together all day, and now he was free to let go. He didn't know how long he cried for, just that when his eyes could no longer produce anymore tears, and the sobs subsided, it was well passed the time he would have arrived home at the burrow. He stood from his chair and glanced around the office. He gave his nose one last sniff as he prepared to leave. He patted down his pockets to ensure he had everything, when he felt it. George pulled the delicate wax out of his pocket.

He wanted what everyone else had, a chance to heal. With a determination he never knew he possessed, he snapped his fingers and lit the candle. He concentrated on the small flame. He then closed his eyes and brought the candle near his lips and blew. At first the smoke lifted as any other candle, but then the trail shifted by an invisible wind.

He knew he had to follow it. He walked slowly, mesmerized as the smoke never lost strength, it took him out of his office, past the register, through the aisle that held his Wonder Witch products, then seeped under the crack of the front door and into the alley. George paused at the door, but he didn't think long, as he feared he would never get another chance like this. He unlocked the door and raced down the front steps of his shop.

The smoke zigged and zagged as he followed down the cobblestone path. He watched as the wisp took a sharp left and dissipated as it entered the open door of Defiantly Devious. He stood there for a moment, wondering why the front door to the shop would be left wide open at this hour. He glanced up and down the alley to find it completely deserted.

George gripped his wand as he took a step forward. As his foot landed on the first stair, he stopped as the light from the miniature hot air balloons began to glow. They started at the front and slowly began to form a soft trail of light towards the back of the shop. As he just entered through the archway of the door, he could make out the silhouette of a figure. He watched as the balloons rise and lower as they twirled themselves around their owner. It was when the balloons made high enough to make out the face of the shops proprietor, that George dropped his wand.

"Y…You? You did all this?" he asked in a whisper.

"Hello, Red." The owner gently smiled and lifted a hand towards him. "Come, we have much to talk about."

A/N: Shaking...I am literally shaking, we are so close to the end, and this has been a long time coming. Let me know how you feel!


	17. A Weight Lifted

Chapter 17: A Weight Lifted

"The soul would have no rainbow, if the eyes had no tears." –Native America Proverb

He watched as the balloons rise and lower as they twirled themselves around their owner. It was when the balloons made high enough to make out the face of the shops proprietor, that George dropped his wand.

"Y…You? You did all this?" he asked in a whisper.

"Hello, Red." The owner gently smiled and lifted a hand towards him. "Come, we have much to talk about."

George watched as the light of the balloons created a warm glow around her.

Hermione's hair suddenly became a comforting blaze of fire with the gold and reds shining through her dark curls. She was wearing a simple black halter dress with a white flower print that easily flowed against her figure. The light allowed the dress to sparkle in way he never knew an outfit could. She looked radiant, strong, a distinguished lady of magic.

"…I…I don't understand." George said as he made his way through the balloons to stand closer. "How is this possible, I would have known."

"I will admit, there were times I thought that you had finally caught on. But, how could someone like the Hermione Granger, possibly open a shop like this." Hermione laughed. "I've been told I can be quite 'stuffy.' Sit down George, you look like you're ready to faint."

Hermione pointed to a black and white striped armchair in the corner. George placed himself where she directed with the wheels still turning in his head. Hermione stood before him with a light smile on her face. Allowing him a moment to process all the things that have happened over the last few months. When his body forced him to recline in the chair, she knew he was ready.

"We were losing you. Even though we saw you every day at the burrow, we saw you going through the motions of your day to day life, we were losing you. I knew your entire family was learning to deal with the loss of Fred, and it pained your mother so much to see that you could not properly mourn someone that knew you better than yourself. I was afraid it would only be a matter of time before we lost you as well.

"We all had ways of dealing with the aftermath of the war. Harry and Ron went right into Auror training, Ginny and I went back to school, Percy went back to his uptight self in his ministry job, Bill and Charlie are living their own lives outside the burrow. But you…you went back to an empty apartment, a shop that lost half of a brilliant mind. You and Fred always had a way to make people laugh in their most trying times. But now, you were barley keeping the shelves stocked, you weren't creating anything new. I had to do something." Hermione stood up straight waiting to defend herself. Waiting for the moment that George would tell her she had no right to he just sat there waiting for her to continue. His hands lightly gripping the arms of the chairs, eyes searching hers as if he was attempting to Legilimens her thoughts.

"You needed a push. A shove really, to bring you back. You were never one to back down from a fight, and you always had a knack for showing off. So I decided to open this place in hopes that a little friendly competition would help you. And I was right, it took a while for you to really come out of your shell again, but the last few products you have created have been a huge success. You are bringing happiness and a sense of wonder into people's life again. You're coming back to us." Hermione's voice started to waiver as George stood up from his chair.

"And….and I know we could never replace Fred but…" she started as he walked towards her.

George put his hands on her face and lifted her chin to him. She could see the crystal clear oceans in his eyes, feel the warmth in his fingertips as his thumbs brushed her cheekbones. The balloons still slowly twirling around, allowing the warmth of the light to reach her core. She closed her eyes as his forehead rested against hers.

"Thank you." He whispered before his lips covered hers.

It was the longest kiss she had ever known. She was lost in the sensation of dizziness, breathlessness, and wanting. Oh, how she wanted. Her hands gripped his button down shirt, gone was the tie he had knotted earlier in the day. His long fingers running over the planes of her face as he brought her closer, deeper, stealing her breath as he did so. His hands lowered down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps and sighs as he traveled. His hands rested around her waist, pressing their hips together.

As George deepened the kiss and allowed her one last breath, Hermione felt the familiar sensation of tugging behind her naval. They landed softly on the hardwood floor of a dusty living room. Magazines and mail left on the table to collect dust and cobwebs. Once clean dishes stacked in the drying rack on the counter, waiting to be put away in the cabinets above. Shoes left in a disarray by the door as though they had just been toed off upon entry. The apartment had been unoccupied since before the war. It was no longer home for George.

Hermione looked to George to make sure that this is indeed where he wanted to be. He looked back at her and reached for his wand in his back pocket. With eyes never leaving hers, he simply flicked his wrist to dissolve the layers of abandonment. Hermione reached up on her toes and kissed the corners of his mouth. She stepped back from him as she reached up around her neck to release the tie of her dress. George watched as the light fabric swam down her length to create a dark puddle on his floor.

Her silhouette slowly moving down the hallway to the bedrooms and pausing to wait for his direction. George realized he had been holding his breath and that his heart was hammering in his chest. He was back in their home…and he was glad. He made his way down the hall and stopped right in front of Hermione. His eyes searching hers to be sure this is what she wanted. She gave him a soft smile and placed her hands over his still pounding heart. He placed his hands over the light fabric of her undergarments and walked her further down the hall to the room on the right.

The magic of the night brought shivers down their bodies countless times. The feel of him buried inside made her grip the sheets as sweat trailed down the arch of her back. There were moments of hands gripping hair and demanding eye contact, whispers left on the skin of their necks and chests. The moments in between with short breaths and messy hair that would keep them going throughout the night. When the passion was over she would put her ear to his chest and listen to the raging ocean built inside of him. As the waves crashed over and over again, they would slowly lull her into a dreamless sleep.

She awoke with a burning deep inside of her. A sense of intoxication she had never known. That…and the glare of early morning sunlight blinding her through the opening of the blind on the windows. She squinted her eyes shut in rebellion to the rudeness of such an abrupt awakening. She felt the pillow beneath her move as a soundless laugh escaped his nose.

George rolled onto his side, allowing her to be shielded from the morning rays. As she stretched the sheet giving away to the bare skin of her chest and arms. She was a sight to behold. They lay there for what seemed like hours just enjoying the warmth their bodies provided one another, exploring territories that were left unconquered the night before. When hunger and thirst prevailed they left their sanctuary.

They walked down the stairs to the back of the shop, where George had left his wallet the night before. When he came out, he found Hermione glancing over his books. The shop's income was growing, black ink filling pages and pages of the previous months. She smiled when she recognized the moments of time when a new product had come out and was reflected within those thick pages.

"Did you ever consider Malfoy's offer?" she asked as he kissed her shoulder.

"His investments?" he asked, wondering where this conversation could be leading. "No, not really. I'm making more money than I know what to do with."

"Then maybe we seek him out for other financial opportunities." Hermione suggested as she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Such as?"

Four Months Later: "So you mean to tell me, that you got the ferret to help you buy out that Devious shop down the road, and now you are running both stores?" Ron asked as he scooped up some mashed potatoes and dipped them in his steamed corn.

"I didn't buy them out, Ron." George corrected as he brought a drink over to Hermione and took his seat. "I partnered with them. We saw an opportunity to combine our like minds and appeal to the masses more efficiently by working together. It was Hermione's idea of installing the archway portal to connect the two shops to increase impulse shopping."

"With the holiday season approaching, and the weather turning, who wants to walk down the Alley in the snow with all those packages? Letting the customers travel between the two and stay warm and dry only seemed common sense." Hermione added.

"Speaking of common sense," Molly Weasley added as she placed a basket of warm rolls on the table. She glared and pursed her lips as she placed her hands on her hips. "That two young people living under the same roof should be married. So when are you going to be placing a ring on that girl's finger before you besmirch her good name?"

"I've asked Mum! Many times in fact." George exclaimed in defense.

Hermione frowned as she turned her head towards him with a look of, 'you have?'

"But the fact of the manner is, Hermione can be stubborn, in fact she can be quite defiant."

Thank you to those that spotted the formatting issue! So there you have it...finally completed...a weight lifted


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